


BLOOD RAIN

by addielouwho



Series: BLOOD RAIN [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Animal Sacrifice, Athelnar Endgame, But also, Canon Compliant, Dubious Consent, F/M, I hope, Like, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Real slow, Religion, Slow Burn, Smut, Witchcraft, Worldbuilding, as much as possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 107,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9404699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addielouwho/pseuds/addielouwho
Summary: The man had his eyes on Athelstan for a long time. Always in the shadows, watching. Just when he was about to strike and make him his, that buffoon Floki killed him, and now he has to do things the hard way...ORA story about one man's journey back to the one he lovesAn AU! fic where Athelstan still dies but maybe doesn't.





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote it. 
> 
> I've had this idea swimming around in my head for months now but for the longest time I was like, "This is a great idea, now someone else write it!" ya know? But finally, finally I was convinced by my lovely friend and beta-reader/editor [QueenofNargles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofNargles/pseuds/QueenofNargles) to just write this sucker so here it is.
> 
> As promised to like the 10-12 people on tumblr. Thank you guys for showing an interest, it means a lot! I hope I keep your interest too!:)
> 
> So anyway, WARNING  
> there be vampires afoot here
> 
> And by vampires I mean quite a few...these are pretty much all OCs
> 
> I really wanna tell a larger story here so there is quite a bit of worldbuilding here OR there will be as soon as Athelstan learns about it, which we shall see when that happens...
> 
> Also, here is the Pinterest board for this chapter: [https://www.pinterest.com/addisonmalvezzi/blood-rain-ch-1/](url)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to edit a few things with this story...the more I write it, the more I get a clear view about things but some of the ideas don't match with what I've written so I've decided to edit my chapters.. don't worry not much will be changed, just a slight few things:) Thank you to every one who has left a kudos or comment, or even bookmarked it! It really means a lot to me and gives me the confidence to continue on with my story!:) 
> 
> Please forgive me if something doesn't add up about the canon Vikings storyline, it's been awhile since I've watched all of Vikings and so my memory is a bit foggy. I can't bring myself to rewatch season 3 right now so I'm going off my memory and wikipedia right now but feel free to correct me in the comments, just please be polite about it ;)

_'We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him.'_

_\- Romans 6:9_

* * *

It seemed as if the heavens themselves were in mourning, for the icy rain just kept coming.

 

The sky had been thrown in perpetual darkness, no way of telling night from day.

 

It had come in droves for days now, washing away everything in its wake that wasn’t tied down.

 

This was all well and good to the man as he traveled, soaked to the bone, through the forest surrounding the village; the worse the weather was, the better his plan would work.

 

The foliage surrounding the village and across the mountains was hard to walk through on clear and beautiful days, but today it was nigh on impossible, for the mud was thick and stuck to one’s boots but the man was undeterred. He had a job to do after all.

 

It was a shame the man had to do this at all, he was hoping for a cleaner and admittedly, _less dangerous_ way of dealing with this but what was done was done.

 

“And all for something as silly as whatever gods one worshipped,” muttered the man as he walked. “How incredibly….mortal.”

 

The man continued to walk through the forest all night as the storm raged on, but the man paid no mind to the storm. To an outsider it would seem as if the rain did not affect the man at all. The outsider would be correct, he was not affected by something as benign as a storm.

 

In fact, the man was not affected by much at all. Not until recently.

 

No, now the man was affected by something quite deeply and that was why he was trudging through the mud in a storm.

 

Finally, though, the man’s journey through the forest came to a close. He had found what he was looking for.

 

Something so simple, sitting there, erected in the ground. When looking objectively at what the man sought, one might think what a stupid thing it is to be walking around in the dark of the forest while a storm was raging on, looking for what was only two pieces of wood tied together to form the Christian cross. But to the man, it was so much more than that.

 

It was Athelstan’s grave.

 

Athelstan, the companion of _the_ King Ragnar Lothbrok, and recently deceased by the hand of the one called Floki.

 

The man made a note to himself to kill Floki after he was done with his business. It was his fault that the man was in this predicament in the first place and the man so hated to be inconvenienced by a mere _mortal_.

 

The man sat down, in the mud, and shouldered off his satchel. He tied the poor, frightened goat he’d been pulling along with him in this storm to the makeshift cross and quickly set to work. He knew that goat would not hold to that post for long and he needed her for his ritual.

 

The man pulled out some henbane, hemlock, saffron, aloes, mandrake and opium, and crushed the ingredients up into a small wooden box with a lid on it so when he burned it, the rain would not put it out. He also added some twigs from the forest into the box. Then, he quickly went to work setting fire to the mixture, angling his tattered cloak from around his body to cover his work so nothing was put out.

 

It took him many tries, almost to the point where he thought he'd give up and try again another day, one less rainy, but it finally lit and the mix began to burn and give off a deep, rich, almost hazy smell.

 

Satisfied, the man sat the wooden box down and turned to his satchel to retrieve his last needed items.

 

The first item he pulled out was a very old and worn scroll, which today’s scholars would mark as being produced in pre-Biblical times. It held secrets that were lost to the world today.

 

The last item the man brought out of his satchel was a dagger. He unsheathed it from it’s carrier; it was very sharp, with a jagged edge. It was of an impressive size, but old and made of bronze. There were once many rubies set into the handle but some had chipped away with age.

 

Upon seeing the jagged dagger, the goat tied to Athelstan’s grave began to panic so the man quickly undid the scroll and grabbed the rope which held the goat, pulling with seemingly supernatural strength. He held the goat directly over where Athelstan was laid to rest and began speaking in an ancient language, long since lost to man.

 

The skies hurled thunder as the man spoke in this ancient language and thunderbolts slashed through the sky as he stopped speaking and held the dagger aloft. In one quick move, the man slit the goat’s throat and spilled its red life’s blood over the grave. The goat quickly succumbed to its death and fell over onto the ground.

 

Once the goat had died, the man picked up the scroll and began to speak those secret words, loud and demanding. He repeated the words several times, louder and louder, until his powerful voice was screaming.

 

Finally, the man once again took up the bloody dagger and brought his left palm over the grave. Speaking those words for the last time, softer now, he sliced open his palm and poured his blood over the grave.

 

Lighting flashed in the sky, thunder rolled and the winds were howling but the man paid no mind. He just sat there, muddy and wet and covered in blood, and waited.

 

The wait felt like an eternity to the man, but in truth it was only a few minutes, for soon the ground beneath the grave began to shift. It was as if something _or someone_ was pushing up from below the earth, causing disturbances in the ground.

 

Lightning flashed again, angry in the sky, when at long last, what the man had been waiting for - a hand popped out from underneath the grave. A male hand.

 

It was Athelstan’s hand.

 

The man watched as Athelstan began pulling himself from his own grave. He was screaming in pain.

 

The man thought nothing of Athelstan’s screams, that was to be expected with a transformation so dangerous.

 

Finally, Athelstan, still half enwrapped in his makeshift coffin of white cloth, pulled himself out of his grave fully and began to tear at his wrappings. He was still screaming in agony and what seemed to be sorrow too.

 

Athelstan writhed on the ground as he tore away the white cloth he was buried in, to reveal his naked body underneath except for that of a loincloth which covered only his most private parts.

 

The man who raised Athelstan from the grave just sat back and watched, entranced by this man’s screams of pain and sorrow as he ripped away his wrappings.

 

After a while, Athelstan’s screams died down to whimpers.

 

He felt _torn apart_.

 

Ripped away from somewhere familiar but he could not place it.

 

Those thoughts fell away as he became aware of….everything.

 

Athelstan was seeing colors that he’d never seen before. He was hearing the sounds of the forest, all echoing in his ears and he found, if he focused long enough, that he could pinpoint an exact sound, like the heartbeat of a doe hundreds of yards away.

 

He was also aware of the man sitting before him but he was too preoccupied with everything _else_ that he could not acknowledge him.

 

Athelstan was still unable to form coherent thoughts at this point, all that was going through his head was that everything felt _wrong_.

 

Not being able to help himself, Athelstan sniffed the air before turning to the man. Years later, Athelstan still could not be able to pinpoint what exactly it is he smelt on this man except that it was _powerful_.

 

The man, once he was finally acknowledged by Athelstan, smiled delightfully and opened his mouth to speak.

 

“Athelstan! How marvelous it is for you to join me, waiting here has been dreadful in this torrential rain!” said the man.

 

Athelstan gazed at him, confused by who _or what_ the man was.

 

Athelstan, with clearing blue eyes, began to study the man. He was different than Athelstan, skin tan where Athelstan was white. He had dark brown hair that curled around his ears and brown eyes. The man also had an accent, that of which Athelstan had never heard. His worst feature, however, was his wicked smile; Athelstan did not like his smile.

 

The man was drenched in the cold rain but he did not seem affected. In fact, as Athelstan felt the sleet hit his naked body, he felt no cold.

 

He felt…animalistic, in the way he was studying the man, tilting his head from side to side but he could not stop himself. He felt out of control and a growing hunger was rising in him.

 

The man was unfazed by Athelstan’s actions and continued to speak, “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, it took me hours to get through this mud! It would've been simpler to track you with a clear blue sky but, sadly, the spell works better in harsher conditions.”

 

Athelstan looked up slowly at the man, confused, and ground out, “ _S-spell_?”

 

The man chuckled lightly to himself and said, “Forgive me. I forget that you don't who I am, which is humorous, for I know _everything_ about you. My name is Eli and I have come to save you.”

 

Athelstan looked at the man, _Eli_ , confused and breathed out, “S-save me? I-I was per-perfectly fine be-fore —be…fore…” Athelstan froze in horror, as he began to understand what had happened. With great trepidation, he turned slowly around and saw it.

 

His grave marker.

 

Athelstan felt himself pant with panic and terror as he realized what had happened.

 

He _died._

 

Floki killed him.

 

Someone — _Ragnar_ —buried him.

 

And now...someone...brought him back.

 

But—he didn't _feel_ the same. He felt stronger than he ever had in his life and more powerful, but he also felt dangerous, as if he was about to lose control at any moment.

 

Athelstan turned back to Eli, still panting even though he now realized he didn't need the air, and spit out, “What—did—you— _do_ —to—me?”

 

Eli smiled, his unnaturally white teeth gleaming in the rain, and said, “I told you. I saved you. Raised you from the dead and turned you into something else! Something… _more_.”

 

Athelstan stopped panting, “You _raised me from the dead_?!” A growl rumbled deep in his throat unexpectedly.

 

Eli raised up his palms in a sort of halting motion and said, “Please. There is no need to be angry. I have made you better, better than you ever were as a mortal.”

 

Athelstan was confused once again, “If I’m not human, _then what am I_?”

 

“A demon.” stated Eli, calmly as if his words did not just crush Athelstan’ very soul.

 

Athelstan felt horrified once more. Franticly, he began muttering a prayer, praying that God would save him from this hell. He reached for the comfort of his golden cross around his neck but it was not there! He felt so lost without his cross, it always gave him comfort in troubling times but now it was gone, so he prayed harder for salvation. But none came. Only the howling of the wind and the rain against his face.

 

Eli watched the former’s priests prayers with amusement. There was nothing that could save Athelstan now. He knew _God_ would never answer the prayers of those chosen to be _strigi_.

 

Athelstan was damned.

 

Athelstan looked at Eli again, his long brown hair dripping in his face and said, “But _why_?”

 

Eli looked at Athelstan, confused by his words and said, “ _Why_? Because I wanted to and I could. You are quite special you know. Special to many…”

 

A look of fresh terror came across Athelstan’s face as he whispered, “ _Ragnar…_ ”

 

Before he could utter more words, the hunger pains in his stomach took a violent turn and Athelstan pitched over to clutch his stomach, moaning in pain.

 

Eli gasped, “Of course! You are hungry. Every _strigi_ is, especially in the beginning.”

 

He picked up the dead goat and thrust it into Athelstan’s face and said, “Here! I know it’s not much but it should be enough to sustain you until we come across the next village. _That’s_ where the real fun will begin!”

Athelstan stared at the dead goat in his face and moaned out, “I—have to—eat it?”

 

Eli laughed lightly, finding Athelstan’s confusion quite entertaining, and said, “No young one, you must drink her blood—or what’s _left_ of it anyway.”

 

Athelstan was horrified at the thought of drinking blood. It was forbidden in the Holy Book.

 

But was God even watching him anymore, after everything that had happened?

 

However, the longer Athelstan stared at the dead goat, with her blood still seeping out of the wound, the greater he felt the pull to—to drink.

 

Athelstan had tried to fight the urge, stave it off. He did not _need_ to drink that goat’s blood. He was _not_ going to succumb to his demon side but the pain grew, stronger and unbearable.

 

His stomach felt as if it was burning from the inside out. This deep darkness began to cloud his senses as the pain became too much and all he could see was the blood.

 

Athelstan screamed in pain as the urge to fight it was too much; he felt two of his teeth grow into elongated fangs and, with immense pain as he fought without prevail, he leaned his head down into goat’s bloody wound and began to drink.

 

The goat’s blood was the most glorious thing Athelstan had ever tasted.

 

It tasted _rich_ with _power_.

 

He drank and he drank, feeling drunk on this power.

 

He needed more.

 

_More!_

 

Too soon, however, the blood flow stopped. Athelstan, in a desperate, animalistic flurry, began licking the blood that seeped into ground. He was overtaken with a desperate need to drink _all_ of the blood. As if it could never be enough.

 

Eli watched this display with growing glee. If Athelstan gave over to bloodlust like that often, things could be _very_ interesting for Eli and it had been exceedingly dull for far too long.

 

“Okay, that’s enough, Athelstan. I believe you've licked up all the blood from the mud,” Eli chuckled and raised himself up from the ground. Then he turned to Athelstan and offered his hand.

 

Athelstan resisted a little, still wanting to taste the blood, but Eli grabbed his arm and pulled him up with ease.

 

“Come, walk with me to the nearest village. There we can feast!” Eli wrapped his arm around Athelstan and began pulling him away.

 

Athelstan tried to back away, shaking his head in the rain, “N-no, I’m not g-going with you.”

 

Eli stopped and turned to him, confused, “Not go with me, are you mad? Who else will help you to find your way, in this new life.”

 

Athelstan shook his head, “This is _not_ a way to live.”

 

Eli’s face grew hard, “It is an _honor_ to be changed like this. You have no idea the gifts you now possess, being raised from the dead. You have no idea the power you now hold in your body. You have been given this honor, don't try to throw it away.”

 

“This feels like a _curse_ , a damnation! God has forsaken me, and left me here in this hell!” Athelstan raged, anger bubbling deep within his chest. He pushed Eli away from him in disgust in a moment of incredible strength Athelstan had never experienced _before_.

 

Eli huffed with impatience. This was _not_ how his plan was supposed to go.

 

Faster than even Athelstan’s new eyes could see, Eli was gripping the back of Athelstan’s neck and whispering in his ear, “Careful now. No need to test me. I am the Chosen of the First One and if He finds out you dishonored me, He could make your new life _very_ uncomfortable.”

 

“What? _Kill me_? I’m begging for it,” Athelstan ground out in pain.

 

Eli laughed and increased the pressure on Athelstan’s neck, “What? Kill you? Ho dull! No, He’d just _kill_ everyone you’ve ever loved and make you watch! Then make you live, _forever_ , in this, how you say, _cursed_ life, knowing _you_ caused their horrible deaths! Now, would you like your precious _Ragnar_ to die an _unfortunate_ death—“

 

Athelstan snapped his head to meet Eli’s and said, “You will _not._ Harm. Ragnar”

 

Eli knew he had Athelstan now.

 

“Of course, my friend. As long as you come with me.” Eli smiled, all traces of anger gone from his face in an instant.

 

Athelstan felt a moment’s conviction before steeling himself and allowing for Eli to lead him away.

* * *

Athelstan and Eli walked through the forest all night, Eli filling the air with mindless chatter once the rain had stopped. Athelstan did not say a word. He loathed Eli for what he had done to him and hoped to never have to speak with him again.

 

It wasn't until dusk that they came across a village, one similar to Kattegat, only smaller and not situated by the sea.

 

“Come, my friend. We must find a place for you to stay this morning. I am afraid to tell you but you cannot be out in the sunlight long—or at all, for that matter.” whispered Eli as the came to a halt outside the nearest hut.

 

“Why?” whispered Athelstan.

 

“Because it will burn you, Athelstan.” said Eli.

 

“Will it kill me?” Athelstan asked, with a slight hopeful tone in his voice.

 

“Yes it will, but don’t go making any plans to kill yourself. If you die, your friends die, understand?” Eli’s voice turned dark from the cheerful note it was moment’s ago.

 

Athelstan nodded his head, dejected.

 

Never in his life has ever felt so powerful and _powerless_ at the same time. Even when he was with Ragnar—

 

No.

 

No need to think about _him_ anymore.

 

Eli leaned his head against the wall of the hut and listened a moment before saying, “A couple. Both still asleep, although it seems the man is showing signs of waking up, good.”

 

“Why do you want him to be awak—wait, how do you know all that? Just by listening?” Athelstan couldn't help but be a little fascinated, even in his current situation.

 

“Aye, and you will learn too, soon. But first, we feast.” Eli smiled another wicked smile and before Athelstan could ask what he meant by “feast”, Eli dashed away to the door of the hut at an alarming speed.

 

Athelstan stared a moment at where Eli was standing last before walking, normally, to where Eli was. He was knocking on the door.

 

“Who in all of Midgard would be knocking at _my_ door at this hour?” grumbled the man within the hut.

 

After a moment, the door opened to reveal a man, who was half undressed.

 

He looked at Eli and Athelstan, unimpressed, “What do you want?”

 

Eli smiled his most charming smile, “Forgive me. My friend and I have been traveling and came across this village. We were wondering if you had any spare clothes, my friend’s here got ruined in the rain.”

 

The man looked at Athelstan, who was still only wearing his loincloth. Athelstan smiled nervously; what exactly was Eli doing?

 

“I don't just give away clothes for free!” the man began closing door until Eli pushed it back, fully open, with his supernatural strength.

 

“Wha-” the man barely got any words out until his eyes met Eli’s and--

 

“You are going to _invite my friend and I inside the house_ now, you understand?” Eli spoke very slowly, without breaking eye contact with the man.

 

The man nodded dumbly, entranced, before saying, “Of course. Why don't you and your friend come inside?”

 

Eli smiled deviously, “Thank you, my friend.”

 

Then, to Athelstan’s horror, he slashed the man’s throat with his nails. Blood came pouring out of the man and Athelstan backed away as the man collapsed to ground, dying. He tried to ignore that overpowering smell of _blood_.

 

“What did you do that for?” Athelstan demanded.

 

“We needed an invitation to go inside his house, Athelstan. We got one, so I had no further use of him,” with that, Eli glided past the man and into the home, where his wife still slept in the bed.

 

Athelstan stayed outside for a moment, watching with odd fascination as the man took his last gasping breaths of air.

 

“Oh Athelstan?” Eli called from inside. “Do bring him inside, I don't want any _unwanted visitors_.”

 

Athelstan sighed before doing what he was told. He dashed away from the blood still coming out of the man's neck, very tempted to do _something_ but he had just enough strength from the goat’s blood to ignore smell as he dragged the man by his ankles inside the hut. He quickly shut the door after dragging the man inside and turned to face Eli.

 

What he saw made his stomach turn.

 

Eli was holding the now awake and whimpering wife by the back of the throat. He had just pulled her from her bed.

 

“So good of you to join us Athelstan!” laughed Eli as he gripped the wife’s neck harder and crushed her to him. “Do I have to do everything for you boy? Come, eat with me.”

 

Athelstan stared at him and the woman, “You cannot possibly mean—“

 

Eli rolled his eyes, “Yes, Athelstan. You must. It is the only way for you to live.”

 

“I told you I’d sooner die!” yelled Athelstan.

 

Eli flew a hand up in warning, “Now now now, Athelstan. No need to bring the other villagers into this, unless you want to massacre them all, in which case—“

 

“No!” shouted Athelstan.

 

Eli turned his head in warning.

 

“I mean, no,” whispered Athelstan. “I won’t kill that woman, _Eli_.”

 

“But you have to, in order to survive.”

 

“I don’t want to survive this. I wish to die again and be rejoined with God in Heaven.”

 

Eli scoffed and the woman he held by the neck whimpered loudly, “God?! You think _God_ would accept you now? Now that you’ve been brought back as a _strigi_? I thought you wise, Athelstan.”

 

Athelstan felt as if he had been burned by those mere words alone.

 

Eli was right.

 

Athelstan had no place in Heaven now, for he had broken one of the divine rules: _do not drink the blood of those who had been living or of those who are alive_.

 

Eli saw Athelstan’s features change to those of reluctant acquiescence and held out the woman to Athelstan, “Now, drink Athelstan. Drink and let the power be yours.”

 

Athelstan stared at the woman’s neck, being quickly overpowered by the bloodlust as he began to hear her the beat of her pounding heart, pumping her body full of rich blood. He didn't know how he was able to resist the man’s blood, maybe he was still in shock, but now--

 

Athelstan walked closer to the woman, as if in a trance, but stopped himself halfway. He raised his eyes to Eli and said solemnly, “If I do this, and follow you, you vow to never harm my friends or family?”

 

Eli gazed into Athelstan’s eyes and nodded once, “I promise.”

 

Athelstan still did not trust Eli, not even the slightest bit, but he had no choice but to take him at his word or his family would be killed.

 

Athelstan thought if he even had a heart left to break, it was now in pieces, as he gravely walked to the frightened woman in Eli’s hold.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Athelstan whispered, holding back tears he wasn't even sure he could shed.

 

His fangs elongated once more and he plunged them into the woman’s neck.

 

She tasted better than the goat.

 

Athelstan wondered if this was what Gods felt like, as this intense wave of pleasure and sheer power rushed through him as her blood pulsed into his mouth.

 

He must have seemed desperate again, as he sucked on her neck, for Eli laughed a little before moving the dying woman’s blonde hair behind her and plunging his fangs onto the other side of her neck.

 

With both of them feeding on the woman, Athelstan could not help but think that this was incredibly intimate. Both of them experiencing this rush of power and pleasure through their bodies. Athelstan wanted to pull away but couldn’t, the siren’s song of the last drops of the woman’s blood too tantalizing.

 

Soon, however, the woman’s dying whimpers silenced.

 

Athelstan pulled back as if he’d been burned once the blood flow stopped, realizing what he had just done.

 

Eli let out a long satisfied moan as he let go of the dead woman’s neck, before tossing her lifeless body to the floor.

 

“Much better, do you not agree Athelstan?” Eli asked as he wiped the lingering blood from his mouth.

 

Athelstan did not answer. He was currently wiping furiously at the edges of his mouth, to remove all evidence that what happened, actually happened.

 

Eli seemed to not notice Athelstan’s silence, for he continued on, “And how incredibly irresponsible of me! I raised you, but I haven’t clothed you! I mean, here you’ve been, walking through the rain and forest in a loincloth! Forgive me Athelstan.”

 

Athelstan was startled by Eli’s words, and stopped scrubbing at his mouth, “I—“

 

Eli cut him off, “But no matter. This man—“ he indicated to the dead man laying on the floor, blood pooling around him, “seems about your size, just take his clothing.”

 

Athelstan looked at Eli, incredulous, “S-steal his cl-clothing?”

 

“Of course! He won’t mind, he’s dead.”

 

Athelstan inwardly flinched at his words.

 

Once again, Eli was right. In a twisted sort of way.

 

The man _was_ dead. It was Eli who killed him. And then Athelstan helped kill his wife.

 

The guilt was beginning to eat at Athelstan.

 

Eli was getting impatient. This “holding onto his humanity” act was quickly getting old. But he should have known, turning a former priest into a _strigi_.

 

“Athelstan,” Eli said in a warning tone, “remember our deal.”

 

Athelstan snapped to attention at this and fought back his revulsion as he navigated his way around the dead man’s body. He tried to ignore the man’s slit throat, with the ruby red blood that had spilt down his front.

 

The man was not wearing a tunic, only trousers. The rest of the man’s clothes were lying next the the furs on the bed in a pile. Eli was right; he always seemed to be right. The dead man’s clothes did fit Athelstan, quite comfortably at that.  Athelstan tried not to think about the fact that he was pleased he was not walking around in his underwear anymore. And in a dead man’s clothes.

 

Once he was dressed he turned back to Eli, who it seemed had been unabashedly staring at him as he dressed. If Athelstan could blush, he would have. Instead, he awkwardly folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat, “So, um, what now?”

 

“Now,” Eli said, looking around the hut with a look of disgust on his face, “Now, we wait until I am ready to go and continue on our way. I'd like to stay a few days and enjoy somethings.”

 

“And where would “our way” _be_ exactly?” Athelstan questioned.

 

“Back to where I live, of course,” Eli said as he sat down beside the unlit fire pit in the middle of the hut. He held out his palms over the pit as if to warm them, although there was no fire.

 

“And where do you live? I get the feeling you are not from around here,” Athelstan observed, now truly taking in the other man’s presence after everything that had happened.

 

In truth, judging by Eli’s still damp clothing, he looked like he could belong here but everything else about him seemed _different._

 

Old.

 

 _Powerful_.

 

The way in which Eli talked, for instance, belied the fact that he was used to getting everything he wanted, without much fight. Athelstan remembered what Eli had said, about being the Chosen of the First One. He made a mental note to find more about that later.

 

Eli chuckled at Athelstan’s words before murmuring something under his breath into the fire pit. Within an instant it was lit. Athelstan could not believe his eyes. What he just witnessed was—

 

“ _Witchcraft_ ,” hissed Athelstan as he stared at the fire.

 

“Of a sort, yes,” Eli said, straightening up from the fire. “Soon you will learn how to wield your powers too.”

 

Athelstan was taken aback, “Powers?”

 

“Yes,” said Eli. “When you become a demon, or half demon in our case, you ascertain certain _gifts_ . But to answer your earlier question, no, I am not from _‘around here’_.”

 

Despite himself, Athelstan was intrigued, “Where are you from, then? Your accent sounds like no other I’ve heard.”

 

“Let us just say I am from a place very far away, a place you may recognize from that _Holy Book_ of yours,” Eli smirked.

 

Athelstan opened his mouth to question Eli further, but Eli held up a hand to stop him and Athelstan decided against testing him in this moment.

 

Eli was dangerous. _Very_ dangerous. He would gladly cause Athelstan torment just to have Athelstan stay by his side in his new form. What Athelstan wanted to know was _why_ ? Why him, a now former priest in every sense of the word. Why did Eli choose to raise Athelstan as a _strigi,_ as he called it. Athelstan wanted answers but he feared he would not get them today, or anytime soon for that matter.

 

“Now, it is almost sunrise and you have not got a suitable place to hide from the sun’s rays coming through the slats in this, _house_ , so you’ll have to go under the furs,” Eli pointed to the deceased couples’ makeshift bed.

 

“What about you? Does sunlight not bother you too, Eli?” asked Athelstan.

 

“Me? Oh no my dear Athelstan, sunlight does not burn me like it does you.” Eli saw the questioning look on Athelstan’s face and quickly added on, “I’ll explain it to you, one day, once I have fully settled you into this new way of living.”

 

Athelstan bit back a remark and moved to get under the furs. He pulled them up close around his neck.

 

“No, not like that!” exclaimed Eli. “You have to cover your entire body, do you want your face to be burned off?”

 

_Yes._

 

“What about my breathing?” even as he asked this question, Athelstan knew it was stupid. He had noticed earlier that he did not need to breathe like he once did, when he was _human._

 

“What about it?” Eli asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

 

Athelstan sighed quietly to himself, although he had the faintest notion that Eli could hear him no matter how soft he sighed, and pulled the furs completely over his head.

 

There was nothing left to do but wait.

 

Wait for the sun to fall in the sky and see what else Eli had been planning, for Athelstan had a feeling Eli was always planning something.

 

Whatever that something was, Athelstan had no idea.

 

However, he intended to find out more. More about Eli, who he was exactly and what his plans were for Athelstan.

 

But for the time being, Athelstan closed his eyes under the furs and tried to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also tags will be updated as the story progresses:) I don't want to give things away right now:)
> 
> Also, Ragnar will show up in person eventually but, as it says on the tin, this is a slow burn so be warned it will be a while before he shows up in person


	2. TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Second chapter! I can't believe I cranked this sucker out in a week! That's like a record for me lol
> 
> Anyways, I wanted to make a little note about my version of vampires in this story:  
> Not to give anything away, but some of their powers are kind of an amalgamation of all the different kinds of vampires out there in the media to date, with my own sort of twist to them, so if you see any similarities, that's why. I kinda picked what I liked about each kind of vampire and made my own as you'll see...
> 
>  
> 
> [https://www.pinterest.com/addisonmalvezzi/blood-rain-ch-2/](url)

_'For the life of every creature is its blood; its blood is its life.'_

_\- Leviticus 17:14_

* * *

 

Athelstan laid underneath the furs all day but found that he could not sleep. His head was still full of questions and the horrors he had faced since being awakened. He could hear Eli shifting about the hut, obviously getting rid of the bodies. How Eli managed that without the other villagers seeing, Athelstan knew not. 

 

But he intended to find out.

 

All too soon, it was dark again. Athelstan was fascinated how quickly time went by now, now that he was this...thing. When he was alive, days seemed to last forever, especially when his life was on the line. Admittedly, that happened far too often when Athelstan was alive. 

 

Now, however, he would never again feel that rush of Death, like it had greeted him when Floki slashed his skull open. 

 

Athelstan’s hand unconsciously touched where Floki had sliced him and felt nothing but smooth, cold skin. Not even a scar. 

 

Athelstan continued to move his hand across his face under his furs, marveled by how different, yet the same he felt to the touch. It was like he was carved out of the finest marble. All his features were the same but now had an otherworldly feel to them. He moved to touch his hands. The indentation marks from his crucifixion were no longer there. His hands felt smooth, just like his face. All of his calluses acquired from years of work, gone!

 

He must have been touching his body in fascination for far too long, for Eli suddenly stalked up to the bed and threw the furs off Athelstan.

 

“Are you quite done now, with touching yourself?” Eli asked, slightly exasperated and a little amused.

 

Athelstan sputtered as he sat up, “I was not t-touching myself! I was just...curious as to whether or not I had my scars.”  

 

Athelstan looked around the hut. It was dark, with only a few candles lighting the small space, but he could see quite clearly.

 

“Scars?” questioned Eli, before realization dawned on him and he growled in annoyance, “Ah yes, your wounds. They were all unfortunate but the one that  _ Floki _ gave you! Now  _ he _ , is a  _ very _ annoying man.”

 

“Yes--” said Athelstan, suddenly cutting off his sentence, “How do you know about Floki?”

 

“Floki, Floki, Floki,” spat Eli. “That pesky little man upset my plans...with his gods! I have half a mind to kill him for his actions!”

 

“No!” shouted Athelstan. He surprised even himself with that statement.

 

“No?” Eli tilted his head to the side, his brown eyes gazing at him, unblinking, as he studied Athelstan. “You would not have me kill this man? After what he did to you?”

 

“God teaches us to forgive,” whispered Athelstan, not quite believing his words even as they came out of his mouth.

 

“Ha!” Eli mocked, “ ‘ _ God teaches us to forgive _ ’! Do you forgive me, Athelstan? After what I did to you?”

 

Eli had him there.

 

Athelstan did not want to forgive Eli for this damnation, this curse. 

 

Athelstan stayed silent.

 

“I thought not,” huffed Eli and he returned to the table where he had sat for most of the day after getting rid of the bodies. He seemed to be reading a scroll. A very old and worn one.

 

In fact, Athelstan recognized that scroll! 

 

He saw it the night before, when he was--

 

Athelstan lunged for the scroll off the furs, faster than he’d ever moved in his life, but Eli was faster and grabbed Athelstan’s wrist before wrenching it behind his back.

 

“Now, now, Athelstan. We mustn't touch what isn’t ours,” tutted Eli in Athelstan’s ear. He pressed his body against Athelstan’s.

 

Athelstan fought back a shiver of revulsion as Eli breathed in deeply, his nose pressed against the back of Athelstan’s neck.

 

“Ah, now Athelstan, please refrain from touching my possessions, or I might not let you go next time,” Eli breathed against his neck, his lips ghosting over his skin.

 

Athelstan did not want to know what Eli meant by that statement and decided to just nod his head in acknowledgement of Eli’s words 

 

Satisfied, Eli let go of Athelstan’s arm and sat back down with his scroll.

 

Athelstan stood where he was, rubbing his arm even though it did not hurt. He wondered if his next move would have Eli’s lighting-fast hands around him again in anger.

 

After a moment, Eli looked up from his scroll, annoyed, and sighed, “Well,  _ sit down _ .”

 

Once he sat down on the bench, Athelstan’s head cleared from the fog that entered his mind when Eli spoke.

 

His blue eyes widened as he was suddenly aware that he was sitting across from Eli.

 

Athelstan could not remember sitting down, he did not even remember moving at all!

 

But he clearly had, for there he was, sitting on the worn wooden bench, staring at  Eli as he studied his scroll.

 

“What did you just do to me?” Athelstan asked.

 

Without looking up from his scroll, Eli answered, “I compelled you. Controlled your mind and all.”

 

“Is that what you did to the man who lived here this morning, to allow us into the hut? Is that why the villagers have not come to see why a stranger is burying the bodies of the people that live-lived here?” Athelstan questioned.

 

Eli looked up from his scroll finally and smiled his wicked smile, “Yes. I knew the man was too gruff to just allow  _ strangers _ so I compelled him to let us in. And then, I just told the villagers we were family staying the night and that our relatives died last night of the flux.”

 

That story would be completely unbelievable...and yet--

 

No one had come to check in on the  _ former _ occupants of this home.  Athelstan looked around the hut with apprehension, avoiding Eli’s eyes.

 

So, Eli could compel people.

 

He could compel Athelstan, even.

 

How was that even possible?  

 

Finally, Athelstan whispered out a question, “Ca-can I do that? Compel people?” 

 

He unconsciously moved closer to Eli, in apprehension to Eli’s answer.

 

Eli noticed Athelstan moving closer and smirked to himself. He now had something that would take Athelstan’s interest. He wanted to learn about the  _ strigi _ and Eli would teach him. 

 

Some of it, anyways.

 

“Yes, Athelstan, you can compel people. But not me, never me.” Eli answered, becoming stern.

 

Athelstan must’ve looked confused at his statement, for Eli continued on, waving his arms as he explained, “You can never compel the one who sires you.”

 

“And you are much stronger than me, even in this state,” Athelstan said,

 

“The older you are, the stronger you are,” Eli answered. 

 

“Are you the strongest?” Athelstan queried, looking deep into Eli’s sharp brown eyes.

 

Eli looked slightly put out as he huffed, “No, I am not.”

 

Athelstan caught on to Eli’s envy and decided to ask, “Who is the strongest, then?”

 

Eli tensed and began furiously rolling up his scroll. He spit out, “That’s enough questions for today, Athelstan. I’ll feed your curiosity another time, perhaps.”

 

Athelstan was not pleased, “But--”

 

Eli shot up from his side of the bench, scroll still in hand, and loomed over to Athelstan.

 

He ground out through gritted teeth, “I said.  _ Enough _ .”

 

Athelstan shut his mouth. His need for more answers melted away in his mind at Eli’s anger. 

 

Satisfied, Eli straightened up and put his scroll away in his well-worn satchel.

 

Athelstan stayed silent, studying the man.

 

Eli, with his curly brown hair that fell almost to his shoulders, and his smoldering brown eyes and bushy beard. He had recently washed, for the mud from last night was gone. 

 

He was very handsome, Athelstan had to admit. He could tell that Eli was well-built underneath his clothes, by the way his tunic would clutch certain parts of his body while he moved. Athelstan was sure Eli had no trouble attracting his victims, he was charming in the way he smiled; the smile that Athelstan hated, with all of its deception. 

 

Eli, after putting the scroll away, turned back to Athelstan, who was still studying him. He was very amused by Athelstan’s curiosity; the man said he didn’t want this life and yet he was badgering Eli all night with questions about it! 

 

Through all his time watching Athelstan, he never once gathered how much of a dual person Athelstan was. In his past life, he fought the duality of being a pagan yet a Christian. Christianity won in the end and Athelstan died for it. Now he was battling between holding onto his humanity or succumbing to the demon within. Eli was curious as to how this battle would end. Which would take victory over Athelstan? Eli was very eager to find out. 

 

Eli decided to test him, “There’s a feast about begin in the Long Hall. Would you care to join me, Athelstan?”

 

Athelstan was apprehensive, “Would it not be best to stay here, in case someone breaks your compulsion.”

 

“ _ No one _ can break  _ my  _ compulsion. Calm down, I want to show you some real fun tonight,” Eli grinned, a dangerous glint to his teeth in the candlelight.

 

Athelstan definitely did not want to go to this feast. He knew exactly what Eli was planning. 

 

Eli placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, his face mere inches from Athelstan’s face, and whispered, “Remember our deal, Athelstan.”

 

Athelstan slumped in defeat. 

 

He had no choice. 

 

Athelstan did not doubt for a second Eli would carry out his word if Athelstan did not do what he said. 

 

Seeing Athelstan’s reluctant agreement, Eli moved away from Athelstan and stood up straight. He gestured for Athelstan to do the same.

 

With great trepidation, Athelstan stood up and looked down at himself. He did not want to stand out so he gave himself a once over.

 

Eli laughed at Athelstan and walked over to the little wooden trunk at the end of the bed and opened it to reveal a small looking glass.

 

He held it out to Athelstan, “Since you’ve been so eager as to how you look now, here.”

 

Athelstan stared at the looking glass, it obviously wasn’t something the dead viking man made; it’s craftsmanship was that of something Athelstan saw in England, with Ecbert. The man must have acquired it on a raid, most likely for his wife.

 

Athelstan longed to look into it. To see if his hands were deceiving him and he truly reflected the monster that rattled its cage within. He could feel it, roaring, demanding it be let out. And despite how little time had passed since he came back, it was already almost impossible to not give in. 

 

Tentatively, Athelstan reached for the glass and tilted it so he could see his face.

 

He was startled to see that there was no grotesque monster staring back at him but rather his face, although he still did not quite look the same.

 

His eyes were a brighter blue and his teeth were exceptionally white. His hair was smoother now, and glossier, despite him having walked in the rain all night. His skin was lighter too but without a flush to his cheeks. He still had his beard. Athelstan wondered what would happen if he shaved it. Would it grow back immediately? 

 

How did that work, with Athelstan technically being dead?

 

“You like what you see, Athelstan?” teased Eli, who had been watching Athelstan’s scrutiny of himself with much amusement.

 

Athelstan broke away from the looking glass abruptly and Eli chuckled. Athelstan thrust it back into Eli’s hands and looked away, embarrassed. 

 

Eli put the looking glass back into the chest before turning to Athelstan, “Now that you’re done preening in the looking glass, are you quite ready to go to the feast then?”

 

Athelstan held his tongue and slightly nodded his head instead. 

 

Eli indicated that Athelstan follow him and together they walked out of the hut.

 

Athelstan thought he and Eli would be the last to show up to the feast, but he saw some stragglers as they made their way to the Long Hall. However, not one turned to look in the direction of the hut they had just exited. 

 

Athelstan was amazed. How could one such as Eli possess such powers? And how could Athelstan?

 

They walked together in silence up the steps into the Long Hall. Inside, the hall was full of people, all partaking in mead and singing songs. 

 

They were celebrating something.

 

Athelstan felt a pang of longing in his cold, dead heart.

 

Athelstan saw Eli begin to walk inside and whispered, “I thought we have to be invited in?”

 

“Only in someone’s personal house,” Eli replied. “This belongs to the entire village, it’s open to anyone.”

 

Beginning to understand, Athelstan walked inside the Long Hall.

 

It felt like a lifetime ago, when Athelstan sat in a warm room, surrounded with loud, happy people. Even now, their happiness was infectious and he could not help but smile at some of the people as he and Eli made their way to a dark corner. But his stomach was aching. All these people made his inner monster cry out with bloodlust. 

 

“Ah, now he’s getting it!” Eli laughed as he wrapped an arm around Athelstan’s shoulders.

 

Athelstan could barely repress a shiver of disgust. 

 

“Charm them, Athelstan,” whispered Eli into Athelstan’s ear, pulling him close whilst a slave girl walked toward them, carrying a pitcher of mead and two horned cups.

 

“Mead?” the young slave girl asked, averting her eyes out of courtesy.

 

“Of course, my young friend here and I would enjoy your mead, pretty little thing,” Eli crooned.

 

The slave girl blushed fiercely and the hunger pangs flared up in Athelstan’s core. She quickly poured their mead.

 

Athelstan avoided her eyes as he accepted the cup and murmured, “Thank you,”

 

The slave girl glanced up into Athelstan’s eyes, surprised, “Ah—we-well,”

 

Her cheeks colored again, stronger this time, and the pangs doubled in his stomach.

 

“Please… _ leave… _ us,” Athelstan ground out, staring at the pulse point in the slave girl's neck hungrily.

 

Scared at his sudden turn in mood, the slave girl dashed away from the two men. 

 

Eli turned to Athelstan, annoyed, “What was that?! I said ‘charm them’ not make them run away!”

 

“I will not kill that girl, Eli,” Athelstan whispered fervently.

 

“You say that  _ now _ ,” Eli sing-songed into his cup as he took a large drink.

 

Athelstan, so as not to say something in return, followed suit and took a sip of his mead. He was surprised at the taste. Athelstan did not know what to expect when trying food for the first time again since his raising, but he did not expect it to taste so _ bland _ . From what Athelstan could remember, mead was supposed to be sweet, easy enough to consume in large quantities but this was nothing but slightly sweetened rainwater!

 

Athelstan almost spit it out and whispered to Eli, “How do you drink this stuff?”

 

“I don’t, unless I want to get really drunk,” Eli answered.

 

Athelstan shot him a questioning look.

 

“Yes, we can get drunk like normal mortals it just takes a bit  _ more _ to get us there. It works best when you feed on one who is  _ completely  _ intoxicated. In fact, here comes one right now!” exclaimed Eli as a young woman, who was obviously inebriated, stumbled over to them. 

 

“Why hello there, young one!” exclaimed Eli as he extended his arm towards the young woman. 

 

She stared at him for a moment, swaying slightly, before she remembered herself and accepted his arm, “He-hello.”

 

“My name is Eli and this is my companion, Athelstan,” Eli gestured to Athelstan with his drinking horn full of mead.

 

The young woman giggled at him before replying, “I am Vi-gdis, daughter of--”

 

“That’s wonderful, my dear,” Eli said, cutting her off. He wrapped his arm around Vigdis, bringing her closer to him. He sniffed her hair and whispered to Athelstan under his breath, “Does she not smell  _ divine _ ?”

 

Athelstan gripped his cup harder, he could feel the horned wood creaking beneath the pressure, “Stop it, Eli! I will not feed on her, especially not here with these people surrounding us.”

 

Eli made a off-handed noise, “They would not notice. All of these drunks? Nay, the worse they’d see would be a couple getting a little naughty in the corner, ha!”

 

Vigdis giggled, “Wh-who would be getting n-naughty in the corner?”

 

Eli smiled at her, falsely sweet, “No one, my sweet. Unless...you  _ want _ to?”

 

Vigdis only giggled some more.

 

Athelstan drained his cup of mead, hoping it could block out the anguish he felt inside.

 

It didn’t.

 

“Vigdis,” Eli said, “Forgive me, but I must tell you something. My companion and I have other motives for talking to you.”

 

Athelstan and Vigdis both went rigid.

 

“Oth-ther motives? Wha-what do you mean?” Vigdis looked at Eli nervously, darting her eyes away, looking for an escape.

 

Athelstan knew it was useless. There was no escape from Eli.

 

“What I mean, my  _ dear _ , is that my companion has been staring at you all night,” Eli whispered into Vigdis’ ear.

 

Vigdis relaxed slightly and laughed again, although this time it had a nervous tinge to it, and looked at Athelstan, “St-staring at me? Wh-what have be-been staring at?”

 

Before Athelstan could muster up a reply, Eli crooned, “Your  _ neck _ .”

 

Eli gave Athelstan a wicked smile. 

 

Vigdis was so inebriated she didn’t notice and replied, “My n-neck? Why?”

 

Eli chuckled a little, “He thinks it’s  _ mouthwater-- _ ”

 

Athelstan grabbed Eli by the tunic, “ _ Don’t _ .”

 

Eli shoved Athelstan’s hand away, “YOU  _ don’t _ ! You can’t deny this is who you are now! I  _ thought _ we were in agreement, Athelstan!”

 

“I won’t make  _ sport _ of her death, Eli!” Athelstan exclaimed.

 

At the words of ‘her death’, Vigdis tried to dash away but Eli was too quick and pinned her to the wall by her neck. Athelstan looked around, sure someone had seen and would come a disrupt this, but it appeared no one had.

 

Vigdis tried to let out a scream but Eli covered her mouth with his other hand. He turned to Athelstan, “Now look at what you have done! Now we must kill her or she’ll tell the others and we’ll be run out of town!”

 

“ _ Let her _ ,” seethed Athelstan in reply.

 

Eli rolled his eyes.

 

Vigdis was shaking like a leaf in Eli’s grasp, her voice muffled under his hand, tears streaming down her face.

 

“What? What is it, girl? I cannot understand you like this,” Eli mocked Vigdis before letting his hand fall away from her mouth.

 

“I w-won’t! I won-n’t!” Vigdis sobbed.

 

“W-won’t! W-won’t!” mocked Eli. “Won’t  _ what,  _ girl?”

 

“I-I I w-won’t tell, I pr-romise,” Vigdis pleaded.

 

“Oh, you  _ promise _ do you? Oh well, that makes everything better! Sorry, sweetheart.” Eli bared his teeth at her, his fangs elongating.

 

Vigdis tried to let out a shriek, but Eli’s hand was too quick and he shut her up again.

 

Eli turned to Athelstan, “I am done playing, Athelstan. Will you feed on her  _ now _ ?”

 

Athelstan turned his head away in disgust.

 

Eli sighed and turned back to Vigdis, “Vigdis? Are you listening to me?”

 

Vigdis nodded her head, tears tracking down her face.

 

“I want you to do something for me. Can you do that?”

 

Vigdis nodded again.

 

“I want you to  _ offer your blood to Athelstan _ .”

 

Vigdis stopped struggling and looked up at Eli as if in a trance.

 

Eli took his hand off of Vigdis’ mouth once more and eased off her neck.

 

Athelstan hoped for a moment that Vigdis was pretending to be under Eli’s spell and that she would run away, run far away from Eli and himself, but she didn’t.

 

She turned to Eli and asked in a dazed voice, “How can I offer my blood to Athelstan? I have nothing to cut my skin.”

 

Athelstan watched helplessly as Eli’s irises turned red and the whites of his eyes darkened to black while his fangs elongated once more.

 

Eli bared his teeth at Vigdis, who was so under Eli’s thrall she did not notice his facial transformation, and growled out, “Let me.”

 

Before Athelstan could stop him, Eli bit Vigdis’ neck and a wave of bloodlust came crashing over Athelstan. 

 

It was stronger now than it had been before and Athelstan was a fool to believe he could resist the call, especially with one so willing, even if it was false. 

 

Eli let go of Vigdis’ neck and sighed, satisfied, and said, “Well, Athelstan? Go on.”

 

Athelstan was not listening. He was staring at Vigdis’ wound, her life’s blood spilling down her neck. Her face was impassive, as she was still under Eli’s spell. The realisation that this was not of Vigdis’ free will almost turned Athelstan off.

 

Almost.

 

But the pulsing of her blood down her neck and the agonising pains in Athelstan’s stomach were too much to bear.

 

Athelstan was back where he was early that morning.

 

Given the chance to become like Eli.

 

_ A monster _ .

 

Athelstan had no choice. In the end, he would always choose family, even if he had to  endure  _ Hell _ . 

 

Athelstan was sure this was  _ Hell _ . 

 

He could take no more. He felt the monster within break free of its chains and bare its teeth in hunger. Athelstan did the same, feeling his fangs elongate and his mouth water with anticipation.

 

Athelstan lunged for Vigdis’ neck and drank.

 

He drank and he drank and he drank until the very last drop of blood was gone.

 

He let go of Vigdis, her body slumping to the ground before Eli propped her up and acted like she was drunk and he was helping her stand.

 

She wasn’t drunk. Not anymore. She was dead.

 

Athelstan killed her but he wasn’t at all comprehending that in the moment. 

 

The high amount of alcohol that had run through Vigdis’ blood was having a profound effect on Athelstan. He felt as if everything was blurred and he could only focus on one thing at a time. If he didn’t, the world would become  _ different _ . 

 

Right now he was focusing on a single bit of dust flying through the air of the hall. 

 

Eli laughed at Athelstan’s punch drunk face, “You feeling it, friend?”

 

Athelstan jerked out of his stupor with the dust and turned to Eli. He felt like he should be mad at Eli, but he couldn’t remember why. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything: how he got here, who he was, what happened to him. He just felt incredibly...drunk.

 

All he saw was Eli’s face and Athelstan couldn’t find the strength within to hate him in this state. 

 

After a moment of deep concentration, Athelstan asked, “Wh-at’s hap-hap-happening to me?” 

 

His words slurred together and his eyes were dark, the pupil almost completely overtaking the blue of his eyes. 

 

Vigdis’ body fell over again.

 

Eli quickly caught her and propped her back up again, rough this time, like trying to teach a child to stay. But he couldn’t teach Vigdis anything. She was dead.

 

_ She was dead. _

 

The thought kept running around in Athelstan’s mind but he couldn’t comprehend it. Who was  _ she _ ? Why was  _ she _ dead? 

 

Eli slung his arm around dead Vigdis’ body and pulled her close to him before turning to Athelstan with a twinkle in his eye, “I told you. Feeding on ones as intoxicated as this one--,” he shook Vigdis’ dead body for emphasis, Athelstan bit down a laugh, he should be ashamed but he wasn’t, “--will get you on another plane of existence, my friend!”

 

Eli slung close to Athelstan, staring deep into his blown eyes and said, “Where are you right now, my friend?”

 

Athelstan looked back into Eli’s eyes and said, “Yo-you keep call-calling me ‘my-my friend’. Bu-but I-I don’t think we ar-are friends. Not at all.” Athelstan was increasingly honest when he was drunk. He couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth even as he saw Eli’s face harden. 

 

Eli began to turn away before Athelstan said, “Bu-but I don’t ca-care right now.”

 

Eli turned back to Athelstan, that wicked twinkle back in his eyes and he purred, “So you  _ like _ me in this moment, huh Athelstan?”

 

Athelstan slowly shook his head  _ no _ and slurred out, “Not  _ like _ ...I’m  _ admiring  _ you..”

 

Eli raised his brows in surprise; he was not expecting  _ this _ , so soon. He had hoped, but so far Athelstan seemed unresponsive. Now, however…

 

He let Vigdis’ head loll on his shoulder as he leaned close to Athelstan and murmured into his ear, “And what,  _ exactly _ , are you admiring?”

 

Athelstan giggled to himself a little, lost in thought, before saying, “Your devilish smile. I think I hate it, but now it’s so--”

 

“ _ Charming _ ?” Eli suggested, moving his body closer to Athelstan’s. Vigdis’ body slumped against him, threatening to fall. 

 

Athelstan continued on as if he hadn’t heard Eli’s suggestion, “ _ Alluring. _ I-I think that’s bad. I-I-I hate you for what you’ve done to me but  _ now _ …”

 

“The intoxicated blood now running through your body has made you vulnerable to  _ the monster _ you’d rather repress,” Eli offered.

 

“Yes,” answered Athelstan, deep in thought again.

 

Eli breathed deep with want. He looked at the slumped dead body on his shoulder, as if he had forgotten she was there, and said, “Let me get rid of this  _ girl _ and then we can talk more about your  _ feelings _ ..”

 

Athelstan nodded, not really comprehending what Eli had said, and then he was alone.

 

In a room full of drunk, happy people. 

 

Not one person had noticed what had just transpired between Athelstan, Eli, and the now dead Vigdis. Athelstan wondered whether anyone would care. 

 

He wondered,  _ why should he care _ ?

 

_ STOP! _

 

That was the monster talking, it was not chained in this state; he was rumbling underneath the surface of Athelstan’s skin and he wanted  _ more _ .

 

More came in the form of a man, walking jovially up to Athelstan, who quickly wiped away the remnants of what had transpired with Vigdis before the man got to close.

 

The man, who was standing where Eli had been only moments before, was very handsome. He had strawberry blonde hair that fell past his shoulders and bright blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. 

 

The man was cradling his own cup of mead but did not seem nearly as drunk as the others in the hall; or as  _ whatever _ Athelstan was in this state. He was smiling at Athelstan, warmly. So unlike Eli in every way. There was something  _ familiar _ in the man’s smile but Athelstan could not place it at that moment. He only smiled back at the man, dizzy and drunk. 

 

Athelstan felt powerful as he smiled at the man; there was something that the man clearly wanted from him. Athelstan could see it in the man’s eyes.  

 

The monster inside swelled up inside Athelstan, roaring for more.

 

Athelstan was powerless. The monster was too strong while he was in the state between clarity and darkness, losing all sense of what mattered. He only felt a  _ need _ . 

 

He sat back and watched, in a daze, as his body and mouth moved in ways he never had before, to get what it wanted.

 

Athelstan did not remember what happened next.

 

All he could hear was laughter in his ears, as he slowly spun away from consciousness, with blood in his mouth.

 


	3. THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this chapter was a doozy, as you may be able to tell from the rating change and additional tags...I hope I answered some questions anyone has about my vampires and such...sorry if its a little confusing, it is like thousands of years of history and rules lol
> 
> Check out my Tumblr blog if you want to see me ramble about various fandoms and post updates on my story: http://lookingaroundforlife.tumblr.com/
> 
>  
> 
> [https://www.pinterest.com/addisonmalvezzi/blood-rain-ch-3/](url)

_“What did dead mean, Ray wondered. It meant lost, it meant frozen, it meant  
gone.” _

_\- Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones_

The forest was dark in the night, the only light was shining from the moon through the trees. 

__

It was quiet in the forest too, but Athelstan could almost hear the sound of a rushing waterfall in the distance.

__

Athelstan did not know where he was. He felt like he should, the forest seemed achingly familiar but he could not place it.

__

Athelstan looked around in the dark trying to get his bearings on where he was and how he came to be here, the forest seemed deserted, when a twig snapped behind him.

__

Athelstan whirled around with supernatural speed, alarmed.

__

If Athelstan’s heart was still beating, it would have stopped in this moment because standing before him, was--

__

_ Ragnar! _

__

Time seemed to stand still. 

__

Athelstan stared at Ragnar, speechless. He looked the same as he had when Athelstan saw him last, only his icy blue eyes seemed like they had aged thirty years; they were tinged with sadness.

__

How did he find him?

__

Ragnar looked ecstatic to see Athelstan and rushed toward him, slamming him into his chest. Athelstan could do nothing but embrace the man, astonished to feel him in his arms again, so soon. His arms were warm and strong, yet gentle at the same time. It felt like it had been lifetimes since Athelstan was last held by Ragnar.

__

They held each other for what felt like seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, or maybe even years. Athelstan tried to convey everything he felt for Ragnar in this embrace. 

__

Ragnar slightly pulled away and began touching Athelstan’s face, as if he was trying to remember every feature. Athelstan could not help but to lean into his touch.

__

“Where have you gone, little priest? I am desolate without you.” whispered Ragnar.

__

Athelstan sighed into Ragnar’s hand, “I am trying to protect you.”

__

“From Eli, you mean,” Ragnar answered.

__

“Ye--” Athelstan cut off. “Wait, how do you know about Eli?”

__

“Haven’t you guessed it yet, Athelstan?” Ragnar teased.

__

Athelstan looked deep into Ragnar’s eyes and was suddenly overwhelmed with memories of his last actions: the feast, Vigdis, his drunken stupor, and  _ something _ that came after. It had to do with a man, but Athelstan could not remember what had happened.

__

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Athelstan asked, fearing the answer he already knew.

__

“Yes,” Ragnar smiled sadly.

__

So he  _ could  _ dream, then. 

__

“I have come to warn you, Athelstan,” said Ragnar, becoming serious. He wrapped his hands around Athelstan’s forearms and squeezed slightly.

__

“Warn me?” Athelstan was confused.

__

“ _ Yes _ ! Do not put your trust into  _ him _ , he’s not telling you the whole truth, Athelstan,” Ragnar insisted.

__

“Who’s not telling the whole truth?” Athelstan was confused. “Eli?”

__

“Promise me you won’t trust him! His actions will be the cause of your  _ ruin _ Athelstan,” Ragnar squeezed his arms tighter, trying to convey his message desperately.

__

“Ragnar, what’s going on? What isn’t he telling me? Please, Ragnar tell me!” Athelstan pleaded.

__

All of a sudden, Ragnar’s entire demeanor changed. His body tensed for a second before relaxing, as if all of the air left his body. He slowly raised his head, as if in slow motion. 

 

Something was wrong.

__

_ Off _ . 

__

He looked  _ sinister _ now, in the moonlight. The lively spark that always lit up Ragnar’s eyes when he looked at Athelstan had gone out.

__

His eyes looked dead.

__

Athelstan stared into Ragnar’s dead eyes, in shock. He had no idea what had just transpired but he was sure that whoever’s arms he was in right now, it was not Ragnar anymore. 

__

Ragnar’s mouth opened like he was going to speak but instead of the beautiful accented voice Athelstan had grown fond of listening to over the years, a different voice came out, more sly and lighter than Ragnar’s, teasing as it said, “ _ But it’s already too late. The seeds have been sown. You try to suppress your demon side but know this, sooner or later it  _ _ will _ _ win over, and one day you will find that the person you were will be no more. _ ”

__

Athelstan tried to pull away, frightened, but not-Ragnar held him in a vice-like grip, akin to the strength Eli possessed. 

__

Ragnar’s eyes suddenly pierced through Athelstan and the voice spoke again, “ _ You will be the cause of great misery and destruction, Athelstan. _ ”

__

“But I don’t want to be! I didn’t ask for this!” Athelstan struggled against not-Ragnar’s hold.

__

“ _ You were chosen, Athelstan. Embrace it! _ ”

__

“No!” screamed Athelstan.

__

“ _ EMBRACE IT! _ ”

__

“NO!” Athelstan leapt up from the furs, suddenly wide awake.

__

“ _ Elohai! _ ” Eli jumped up from the table. They were back in the small hut again. It was still dark out. Athelstan was unsure whether or not a whole day had passed since he fell unconscious. 

__

“What are you screaming about, do you want to wake the whole village?!” Eli shot over to Athelstan’s side, gripping his arms the same way Ragnar had in his dream only moments ago.

Athelstan glared at Eli, remembering Ragnar’s words. He wordlessly shook himself out of Eli’s hold, got up from the bed and began pacing the floors of the hut. His dream left him deeply unsettled. 

__

“Don’t tell me you’re having nightmares about what happened last night,” guffawed Eli.

__

“ _ What _ exactly happened last night, Eli?” Athelstan asked as he paced.

__

“You don’t remember?” Eli asked. “Although I suppose not, the way you fainted and all, after killing that guy.”

__

“ _ What _ ?” ground out Athelstan. He stopped pacing and turned back to Eli, who was now reclining on the bed, staring at Athelstan with that wicked smile on his face. 

__

“You  _ killed a man _ , Athelstan. All on your own too! I’m so  _ proud _ ,” Eli’s voice was dripping with glee.

__

Athelstan could not process the words as they came to his ears, “That--you’re--no! I didn’t kill anyone, not after--” He broke off, remembering Vigdis’ dazed face as she offered herself up to Athelstan, after Eli bit her.

__

“Oh but you did! Their families are in mourning as we speak! I’ve compelled them to believe that their loved ones were killed by an animal, though I suppose that’s not far from the truth, now is it?” Eli taunted from the bed.

__

Athelstan could not speak. All the memories of last night were flooding him.

__

Him, feeding from a compelled Vigdis and getting incredibly drunk in the process.

__

Eli, leaving him alone at the feast to dispose of her body.

__

Athelstan, being approached by the man who he now remembers looked like someone he’d rather forget, someone who had just visited Athelstan in his dreams. He remembered using his newfound powers to manipulate the man into giving him what he-- _ the monster _ \--wanted. He remembered it feeling  _ so good _ . 

__

“Oh don’t be sad, Athelstan,” Eli got up from the bed and walked slowly towards him, as if approaching a frightened animal. “From what I could see, it looked like the man was enjoying it, before you drained him dry. I have to say, I was quite impressed by your display of power. I have never seen a  _ strigi _ catch on as quickly as you have.” He wrapped an arm around Athelstan’s shoulders in a mock gesture of reassurance. 

__

Athelstan broke out his haze long enough to catch Eli’s last words, “Have you made many like me, then? Have you ruined countless other lives like mine?”

__

Eli touched his chest where his heart would be, and made a wounded noise, “I have not  _ ruined _ your life. I have made you  _ more _ . More than you ever were going to be, rotting in that grave!”

__

“I was happy where I was!” raged Athelstan.

__

“You were  _ happy _ to leave Ragnar?” Eli questioned, a teasing lilt to his voice.

__

Athelstan saw red.

__

Before he could process what he was doing, he had Eli shoved up against the wall of the hut with a newfound display of strength. His teeth were bared but all Eli did was laugh.

__

“If you think you can kill me, think again,  _ brother _ ,” Eli laughed. He grabbed one of Athelstan’s hands and tugged it off his body with more strength then even Athelstan just displayed. Eli smiled maliciously as he twisted Athelstan’s arm into an odd position.

__

Athelstan cried out in pain but managed the words, “You are  _ not _ my brother, Eli.”

__

Eli laughed mirthlessly this time and twisted Athelstan’s arm harder, “ _ Wrong _ again, Athelstan. Since I brought you back using  _ my _ blood, that makes us brothers now.  _ Blood _ brothers, in fact.”

__

Athelstan could not help but laugh even though the pain in his arm was unimaginable, “I don’t know of many brothers who would want to  _ sleep _ with their sibling.”

__

Eli tightened his grip on Athelstan’s arm, “You caught onto that, did you?”

__

“Hard to miss,” Athelstan gritted out. “The way you keep staring at me as if I’m a piece of meat just waiting to be devoured.”

__

“Oh yes, you must be familiar with that look; Ragnar looked at you the same all the time,” mocked Eli.

__

“What are you talking about? How do you know these things?” Athelstan was incredulous.

__

“Will you stop your futile attempt to  _ kill _ me if I tell you?” Eli asked, twisting Athelstan's arm for emphasis.

__

“... _ Yes _ ,” Athelstan ground out.

__

Eli let go of Athelstan’s arm and was sitting on a stool in front of the fire pit in the middle of the hut in a flash. Athelstan cradled his arm for a moment, it seemed to right itself quite quickly but it was Athelstan’s pride that was truly wounded.

__

“Oh sit down, Athelstan, or storytime is over,” Eli sighed.

__

Athelstan quickly took a seat on the stool opposite him, his skin crawling with anticipation at some  _ real _ answers. 

__

_ Finally _ _. _ _. _

__

“So you want to know who I am, where I came from, and why I changed you, correct?” Eli asked his deep amber-brown eyes piercing Athelstan.

__

Athelstan nodded his head yes.

__

Eli considered Athelstan for a moment before saying, “I’ll tell you why, in exchange for something in return.”

__

Eli already had Athelstan under his control by threatening his family, what more could he want?

__

“What is it that you want?” Athelstan asked, apprehensive.

__

“I’ll tell you when storytime is over,” Eli smirked.

__

Athelstan didn’t like this. 

__

_ But-- _

__

“Alright,” Athelstan said, sighing in quiet defeat.

__

Eli sat back in his stool, satisfied before beginning, “There once was a poor woman who lived a long time ago, in Jerusalem. She was an orphan, a prostitute, no use to anyone until...a man appeared to her one day. He was a  _ beautiful _ man. The woman was so shocked by his beauty and seeming grace that she fell to her knees, convinced the man was an Angel, sent by God to bless her. As you might guess, this man was  _ no Angel _ .” Eli chuckled darkly. “The man told the woman that it had been foretold by the Powers That Be, that  _ her  _ child, would be the Chosen of the First One, the First  _ Strigi _ . The woman was frightened and tried to run away but the First quickly overpowered her. He took her to the catacombs of Jerusalem, where an ancient cult that worshipped the First  _ Strigi _ took up residence. Since, as you know, a  _ strigi _ is dead, the First could not personally give her His seed in order to birth the Chosen One, so He had one of his officers rape her until she was with child, and  _ who  _ do you think  _ that _ child turned out to be?” Eli looked at Athelstan teasingly.

__

“You,” Athelstan whispered, horrified at this story and all that it entailed. It was no wonder Eli turned out the way he did, he had a horrible father figure to look up to.

__

“ _ Aye _ ,” Eli whispered back. “I may not be the First’s son by natural causes but for all intents and purposes, I am His. One that He raised up from an infant and trained to become the best  _ strigi _ in the World. I was trained in the art of many things: fighting, magic, and finally,  _ killing _ . I became master of all three by the time I was thirty-seven years of age and then, and only then, did He finally kill me and raise me up into a  _ strigi _ .”

__

“As you know, being raised from death into a  _ strigi _ is a  _ painful _ , wonderful experience, one that changes you into something altogether  _ different _ …” Eli’s voice turned wistful.

__

“I wouldn’t say  _ wonderful _ …” muttered Athelstan.

__

Eli scoffed and waved his hand, “Whatever you like, Athelstan, whatever you like. As I was saying, I was raised into a  _ strigi _ and I was supposed to be the one to bring about a New Age, but as you can see now, that didn’t happen.”

__

“What  _ did _ happen, then?” Athelstan asked.

__

“Well, I suppose I was “taking advantage” of my  _ strigi _ form and not really “performing my duties” as the Chosen One correctly...or that was what  _ He  _ said anyways. I got into a big fight with the First and left.”

__

Athelstan thought back to Eli’s threat the night he raised him, how the First would punish Athelstan if he didn’t follow Eli. Would He really, if Eli wasn’t even following him anymore? In the end, it did not matter whether or not the First would carry out Eli’s threat, Athelstan knew Eli would do it if the First didn’t. 

__

“Well, if he’s the First, he’s the strongest of us, right?” Athelstan asked.

__

“Yes, He’s the strongest of  _ us _ ,” Eli slightly smirked.

__

“Then why didn’t he just kill you when you weren’t ‘performing your duties’?” Athelstan was curious.

__

Eli’s eyes locked onto Athelstan’s, “You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you, Athelstan, if He had just killed me.”

__

Athelstan looked away awkwardly.

__

Eli sighed, “No matter, no matter. To answer your question: I don’t know why He didn’t kill me...perhaps He felt a kinship to me? I know not, all I know is that I left the First and began to travel the world, searching to find someone to share eternity with...”

__

Athelstan feared those words ‘ _ eternity _ ’...just how old was Eli exactly? Could he and Athelstan truly never die? Was Athelstan doomed to live forever as this monster?

__

He was afraid to ask, so he decided with a different question, “Where have you been? Travelling the world, I mean.”

__

“Where  _ haven’t  _ I been, is the question Athelstan!” Eli moved his hand and pointed at Athelstan for emphasis, “Paris, Rome, Asia, and on and on…”

__

“I’ve been to Paris,” Athelstan offered.

__

“Yes, I know,” Eli smiled.

__

“How do you know that? The only person I ever told that to was--” Athelstan broke off. He looked up at Eli, understanding now, “You compelled Ragnar, to tell you about me, didn’t you?”

__

Eli’s eyebrows shot up, surprised he caught on so soon, “Correct, my former little priest.” 

__

Athelstan flinched at his words but had to ask, “But why me?”

__

Eli sighed and looked down at his hands, “I told you, Athelstan, you’re special. Everyone knows that...that’s why Floki killed you, you know, because you were special to Ragnar and he wasn’t, not in the way it counted any way.”

__

Athelstan looked away again, “Let us not talk about Floki, please.”

__

“Fine. Let’s talk about  _ you _ ,” Eli leaned in close to Athelstan and purred deep in his chest.

__

Athelstan leaned back, half in shock and half in disgust and stuttered out, “M-me? What about me?”

__

“It’s been two days since I raised you and already you are succumbing to your dark side. Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone charm someone that well, so soon. You are very impressive, young one.”

__

“About that…” Athelstan steeled himself to ask this question: “What did I do, exactly?”

__

Eli smirked at Athelstan and teased, “Are you certain you want to know?”

__

Athelstan took a deep breath, mostly out of habit, before saying, “ _ Yes _ .”

__

“Well, as I said, I’ve never seen anyone adapt so quickly to their powers, barring me of course. You were...spectacular.” Athelstan fought the urge to fidget as Eli’s words went wistful, teeming with desire as he recounted Athelstan’s actions. “I saw you turn to the man and smile at him, a coy smile, full of promise. You lead the man to the darkest corner of the room where you compelled him to give you his blood willingly. He did, cut open his wrist with a small dagger he carried, and you began to drink. You looked so blissful I almost didn’t want to pull you away but you were still licking up the dregs of blood the man left even after he had died. You quickly passed out after I pulled you away from the man. I brought you back here and let you  _ dream _ while I took care of the bodies and any potential  _ witnesses _ .”

__

“Were there any witnesses?” Athelstan asked.

__

“Lucky for us,  _ no _ , but next time, wait until I am with you to feed so I can watch your back, we don’t want any unnecessary unpleasantness,” Eli scrunched up his face at the thought.

__

“You said that we, the  _ strigi _ , can live forever,” Athelstan prompted after a moment of contemplation.

__

“Aye,” Eli said slowly, unsure of where this question was going.

__

“Is there  _ anything  _ that can kill us?” Athelstan asked.

__

“Why? Are you going to try to kill me, because I would advise against that Athelstan,” Eli warned, not so teasingly.

__

“No,” insisted Athelstan, “I gather that would be fruitless. I just want to know so I can be careful. You wouldn’t want me to die on you all of sudden, because you forgot to mention something that could kill me.”

__

Eli considered Athelstan for a moment before replying, “No, I suppose not. I imagine there is no harm in telling you so, but it is a tad confusing so bear with me. The  _ strigi _ that are directly changed by the First, be it through magick or the more  _ conventional _ way, have more powers than ones who are not. You, however,  _ do  _ have some of those powers;  _ some, _ not all.”

__

“How?”

__

“Well, those  _ strigi  _ who are brought back from the dead through magick now possess certain  _ magicks _ , among other things. That’s why I was killed by the First instead of just being turned the natural way, so I could have those magicks I didn’t have when I was human. I still possess most of His powers though, because He used His blood in the ritual. It is mostly the same with you, Athelstan. You possess almost all of the same powers as me because I raised you with magick. You are practically invulnerable. Not even a wooden stake through the heart could harm you, as it would normal  _ strigi _ .” Eli explained.

__

“So, one of the ways to kill a  _ strigi _ is with a wooden stake through the heart?”

__

“Aye, for normal  _ strigi _ . For you and me, it is a little more complicated than that. Try not to get staked with a silver dagger, it won't kill you but it will incapacitate you for awhile. However, in this state, it will become increasingly hard for anyone,  _ strigi _ or mortal, to kill you as you age. As you may have noticed, you are stronger than you ever were as a mortal and faster too. This will only exemplify as you grow older.”

__

“How is it, that despite being raised by magick, I’m still vulnerable to the sunlight and yet you are not?” Athelstan questioned

        “When the First came to be,” answered Eli, “He was created invincible, a demon who could not be killed by any means and this was passed down to those he directly changed, as I have stated. Sadly, not all of those invulnerabilities are passed down, even through magick, which is why you are vulnerable to sunlight and I am not. That will soon change, however.”

__

“What do you mean?”

__

“Well, back where I reside, there is a scroll, passed down to me from the First, that contains magicks that will allow you to walk in the sunlight again. I did not anticipate needing it, so I left it there when I travelled North.” Eli said.

__

“And when, exactly, did you come here? And why?” Athelstan needed to know.

__

Eli was pensive a moment before he teased, “I came to Kattegat shortly after you came back from England the second time, to see the fabled _Ragnar_ _Lothbrok_ of course! Men of such power and exploits always intrigue me but instead of being fascinated by him, I became fascinated by _you_ , Athelstan.” Eli’s teasing tone became serious as he stared deep into Athelstan’s eyes.

__

Athelstan had to look away, burning from the intensity of his stare. 

__

Finally, Athelstan looked back at Eli and found the courage to ask, “How do I know that anything you are telling me is true?”

__

“Well, I suppose you will just have to  _ trust me _ ,” sneered Eli in response.

__

The words of Ragnar’s warning in the dream came rushing back to Athelstan. 

__

_ How could he just trust Eli?  _

__

“I suppose so,” Athelstan murmured, although he had no intention of doing so.

__

After a moment, Eli leaned back in the stool and parted his legs, seemingly relaxed. He said, “I believe that is enough storytime for one evening Athelstan.”

__

_ Damn _ .

__

Athelstan had more questions for Eli but decided that they had to wait, not wanting to incite Eli’s wrath. Instead he sighed and nodded his head in quiet acquiescence. 

__

Eli watched Athelstan for a minute, studying him, before leaning into Athelstan’s space and breathing, “Now, about that  _ return payment _ .”

__

Athelstan was sure if he could turn red, he would, but instead he just stared into Eli’s amber-brown eyes and inwardly gulped in fear.

__

Gathering himself, Athelstan asked, “What is it that you want?”

__

Eli slightly chuckled, “Haven’t you guessed it Athelstan?”

__

Ragnar and his warning came flying through Athelstan’s head again.

__

“You want  _ me _ , correct?” Athelstan asked hesitantly, already knowing the answer.

__

Eli hummed deep in his throat before saying, “ _ Yes.” _

__

Before Athelstan could attempt to stop him, even though he knew it was useless, Eli was grabbing the sides of Athelstan’s face and pulling him into a deep kiss.

__

This wasn’t how Athelstan’s life was supposed to go. 

__

He should not allow Eli to kiss him but what could he do? Eli was too powerful and held the life of Athelstan’s family in his hands. Athelstan could do nothing but let Eli kiss him.

__

His beard felt odd rubbing against Athelstan’s and then suddenly he was thinking about another beard, but lighter in color. Athelstan gripped Eli’s arms, trying to will the feelings away. Eli took this as Athelstan responding and gripped his arms in return, pulling them up from the stools in front of the fire pit. 

__

Coming to his senses, Athelstan tried to pull away but Eli’s grip was too strong; Athelstan would be bruising if he could. 

__

Eli kept Athelstan in his arms, but pulled his lips away before whispering, “I have awaited a long time for this, Athelstan.”

__

“I-I can-can’t,” stammered Athelstan, still trying to pull away but in vain.

__

“You can, and you  _ will _ . You  _ must _ ,” urged Eli, breathlessly pulling him in again.

__

His lips fought Athelstan’s, nipping and biting his way into Athelstan’s mouth. The bites began to hurt when Athelstan could feel Eli’s fangs nipping his lips and he gasped, opening his mouth. Eli took this as a way in, and forced his tongue inside Athelstan’s mouth.

__

Eli battled Athelstan for this deep, heated kiss. Athelstan was silently revolted. He didn’t want this. Eli was a monster! 

__

But so was Athelstan.

__

What did it matter anymore? Athelstan could never be with his family again, Eli was all he had now. And now, Eli wanted Athelstan, body and soul, if he had one. 

__

Athelstan remembered Vigdis’ dazed face as he fed, and the man whose face was so familiar that it ached Athelstan to the core. He killed them. Both of them, because he let the monster win.

__

Athelstan was beginning to believe the monster would always win in the end. He felt powerless to stop it and if Athelstan was being honest with himself, the kisses from Eli felt... _ good _ .

__

He hated himself for it.

__

They felt good! Even though behind closed lids it wasn’t Eli he was kissing but someone else; someone, who he loved with all his being.

__

It didn’t help, however, that the monster inside was purring with happiness at this new pleasure and was silently opening his cage to be let out once more. Although, this time, it was for something different than feeding...

__

Athelstan allowed Eli to continue kissing him; he didn’t pull away. Eli’s hands slowly left their grip on Athelstan’s forearms once he was certain Athelstan wasn’t going to dart away and began roaming Athelstan’s body. Athelstan felt like he was on fire wherever Eli’s hand went, even though Athelstan was still feeling disgust, deep in his gut, at these actions. 

__

Eli’s hands roamed from Athelstan’s neck, down his back, and landed on his rear. Athelstan jumped at the hands groping him; he had never been touched like this before. Even with Judith, she was not so adventurous as to grope him madly. This sensation was entirely new...and the monster loved it.

__

Athelstan’s hands gripped Eli’s arms tighter in response. The monster inside demanded that Athelstan respond. He felt powerless against it, the monster was too powerful. And so, with great trepidation, Athelstan began kissing back.

__

Eli laughed into Athelstan’s mouth, “Oh good, you’ve decided to play. That makes  _ this _ much more fun!” He pinched Athelstan’s backside for emphasis.

__

Athelstan ignored the implications of Eli’s comment; he knew, subconsciously, that if he hadn’t responded to Eli’s kisses, Eli would have no qualms in compelling him into to doing the act anyways. 

__

Eli controlled the kiss, guiding Athelstan to move this way and that, sloppy and deep with tongue. 

__

Before Athelstan knew what was happening, Eli moved them both with supernatural strength and speed to the edge of the former owner’s bed.

__

“I promise, Athelstan, you  _ will _ enjoy this...feelings are heightened when you are a  _ strigi _ . I am positive you are feeling it right now, are you not?” Eli breathed against Athelstan’s mouth as he began to swiftly pull off his tunic.

__

Athelstan only shivered in response and allowed Eli to lift up his arms and take off his tunic as well.

__

Eli took a moment, after helping Athelstan remove his tunic, to admire Athelstan's body and its differences from his own.

__

Pale skin where Eli was tan. Softer, leaner lines whereas Eli was defined and shapely. Athelstan could not help but gawk slightly. He reminded him of --

__

_ No. _

__

Athelstan shook his head silently, as if to shake the thought of  _ him _ from his mind. If Eli found out he was thinking about someone else while they did-- _ this _ \--Athelstan did not even want to think of the implications.

__

Instead, he brazenly grabbed Eli’s face and pulled him into another kiss, as if to chase the thoughts away.

__

“ _ That's _ the spirit, Athelstan!”

__

Eli broke away from Athelstan's kiss and began trailing hot, wet kisses down his throat. He stopped at the juncture in Athelstan's neck and started to lightly nip him before biting down completely, fangs and all.

__

Athelstan let out a large gasp, partly out of pain but also out of pleasure. He had not been on the receiving end of a  _ strigi  _ bite and didn't know it could be so painful yet so pleasurable at the same time.

__

“What are you doing?” Athelstan managed to gasp out.

__

Eli stopped sucking on his neck and replied, “Making you  _ feel good _ . It does feel good, doesn't it?”

__

Athelstan didn't answer.

__

Eli took one last bite on Athelstan’s neck before continuing a path down his torso. He placed hot, wet kisses all the way down, stopping periodically to take a bite, causing Athelstan to cry out. Eli seemed to enjoy the sounds Athelstan made, for he twisted one of Athelstan’s nipples and laughed when Athelstan jumped and cried out from the sensation.

__

Finally Eli reached the point where Athelstan's breeches covered the rest of his body, so Eli began to untie the strings that held them up. Once he had Athelstan's breeches untied, he untied his own and shucked them off, throwing them in the corner of the hut somewhere.

__

His size was impressive. Athelstan figured Eli would want him to do something with it, but he knew not what to do.

__

Instead Athelstan stood, frozen, with his breeches untied, that were threatening to fall off. He wasn't sure he was ready, or if he'd ever be ready, for Eli to see him completely naked. 

__

Eli, however,  _ was  _ ready and said to Athelstan, “Do not be shy, Athelstan. I will not harm you…much.” Eli chuckled a little at his attempt at a joke.

__

Athelstan was not amused, “Isn't this all a little  _ soon _ ?”

__

Eli sighed, annoyed, “Athelstan, I have been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

__

“I haven't,” argued Athelstan.

__

Eli got a malicious glint in his eye as he sing-songed, “Athelstan,  _ remember our deal _ .”

__

Athelstan quickly shut his mouth and began to slowly take off his breeches and the loincloth that he still wore from being buried and was finally bare in front of Eli.

__

“You. are.  _ exquisite _ ,” Eli breathed, taking in Athelstan's appearance. 

__

Athelstan squirmed underneath Eli’s hot gaze. He could recall being stared at that way before but he was trying to forget  _ that  _ so he pushed the thought from his mind. 

__

Eli crossed the space between them and began running his hands over Athelstan's exposed chest, passing over where his bite marks had been; they had already healed.

__

In a sudden movement, Athelstan was pushed onto the bed by Eli, who quickly pounced on top of him. He captured Athelstan's lips once more and immediately forced his tongue into Athelstan’s mouth. 

__

Athelstan was silent beneath Eli as he kissed him, trying to not give him the satisfaction of his moans. It was no matter, Eli was happy to kiss him despite his silence. 

__

Eli slowly began grinding his groin over Athelstan’s, trying to incite a response from him. Athelstan did not give one at first until Eli ground his hips  _ just right _ and he let out a surprised moan.

__

“Oh, decided to join me, huh, Athelstan?” Eli teased.

__

Athelstan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the odd pleasure that he felt as Eli continued to grind his hips against Athelstan's.

__

Eli snatched Athelstan's head and forced him to look at him, “You--you! You keep your eyes open and look at me! You understand?” Eli’s hand tightened in Athelstan's locks, threatening to pull, so he nodded and kept his eyes open.

__

“Good,” Eli chuckled, light again. “I wouldn't want you to miss anything!”

__

Eli began rubbing his hands down Athelstan’s front as he ground his hips some more. Athelstan suddenly jumped when he felt those hands touch him  _ there _ .

__

Eli laughed into Athelstan's mouth after he jumped and gave Athelstan's cock a few experimental tugs before stroking him, with an odd gentleness to him. He swallowed Athelstan’s whimpers as they kissed. 

__

Finally Eli broke the kiss and began trailing kisses down Athelstan's chest again and down to his cock. 

__

“Wha-what are you doing?” Athelstan managed.

__

“I bet  _ Judith  _ never did anything like  _ this  _ for you,” Eli taunted. 

__

Before Athelstan could question what he meant by  _ that _ , Eli took him down his throat in one fell swoop. All the unneeded air in Athelstan’s lungs came  _ whooshing  _ out of him and he laid his head back onto the bed, in shock.

__

Eli hummed around Athelstan's cock, making him see white for a moment. He had never felt this way before, the sensations were completely new. Eli bobbed his head up and down, and fondled his balls. 

__

Athelstan could not believe this was really happening. And, despite himself, he could not help but feel amazed at how  _ good  _ it felt. The monster inside was roaring with pleasure and was just begging to take over. Athelstan almost let him but his pride decided against it. 

__

Eli sucked on him until he was hard in his mouth, then he let off with a pop! 

__

“Don’t worry, Athelstan, I won't ask you to return the favor… _ this time _ .” He smirked deviously.

__

_ This time _ .

__

“No...I want to give you something better than  _ that _ …” Eli darted up and off the bed for a quick moment to the chest and quickly darted back with a small jar in his hands.

__

“Now, this may  _ hurt _ a little Athelstan but I promise it’ll get better soon,” He flipped Athelstan onto his stomach in a quick jerk of his hand.

__

Athelstan tried to push back up but Eli flew on top of him and held him down with his body. Athelstan felt oil-slick fingers at his most private area and clenched up in surprise and disgust.

__

“Now, now Athelstan, relax…” Eli mockingly cooed into Athelstan's ear.

__

He coaxed Athelstan's legs apart and lifted a knee between his legs before slowly pushing in one oil-covered digit into Athelstan. Athelstan gasped out loud at the intrusion. He never knew men could do this together…

__

Eli slowly pushed his finger in and out of Athelstan a few times before he curled it inside. He hit a bundle of nerves inside Athelstan that sent stars in his eyes.

__

“What-was  _ that _ ?!” Athelstan gasped out.

__

“Oh  _ that _ was something that will make this experience  _ extremely _ good for you!” Eli laughed and continued to brush his finger up against the little bundle of nerves until Athelstan was loose enough to add another finger.

__

Athelstan wasn't sure he could get used to the feeling of being  _ filled up  _ but if Eli kept brushing up against that bundle of nerves, he was going to burst.

__

He must’ve been making sounds like he was close, for Eli suddenly withdrew his fingers and said, “Oh, not yet, young one. You cannot come until I  _ fuck  _ you.”

__

Athelstan had no time to register his comment before a new feeling was pressed up against his hole. Eli anchored his hands on Athelstan's shoulder and hip and slowly began to push in.

__

Athelstan cried out; even with the oil, it was incredibly painful and felt very odd to be filled like this. Once Eli was fully sheathed inside of Athelstan, he took a moment and allowed Athelstan to get used to the sensation before slowly pulling out again.

__

The monster within mewled at the loss and embarrassingly, Athelstan realized he let that slip out. Eli laughed at him before thrusting all the way back in, rough. Athelstan let out a surprised grunt.

__

Eli started a pace, slow at first, allowing Athelstan to adjust to him before speeding up. Skin slapped together as Eli pounded into Athelstan. Soon, his cock found that sweet spot inside Athelstan and he was seeing stars again.

__

Athelstan couldn't stop the moans that came tumbling out of his mouth, the monster relishing in every touch that Eli branded on him. Athelstan, on the other hand, felt deep disgust at his actions but knew there was no way he could stop. Especially not now.

__

Eli moved Athelstan's long hair away from the nape of his neck and started to plant butterfly kisses there and on his shoulders. Athelstan was surprised by this, Eli’s unusual gentleness. How come he wasn't being more forceful? Why was he determined to make Athelstan feel good too?

__

Athelstan chanced a look back at Eli and was astonished to see his eyes a deep black and red, the monster had taken over him. He began to move more roughly inside of Athelstan, causing the bed to shake. Eli was hitting that sweet spot inside of Athelstan with pinpoint accuracy and Athelstan felt something deep and burning begin to build in the pit of his stomach. It felt familiar to the hunger pangs he felt whenever he was around humans or hungry but not as painful...more pleasurable.

__

Eli was getting close too. His thrusts were more frenzied now but still hitting that same spot, over and over again. The pressure kept building and building until Athelstan felt like he was right at the edge, just about to fall over and join the rushing waterfall of pleasure. Eli aimed a few more thrusts and that was it. Athelstan was falling, coming, and hating every moment of his pleasure.

__

Seeing that Athelstan found his pleasure caused Eli to come too and soon he was filling Athelstan up with his seed. Athelstan winced at the feeling of Eli’s seed inside of him.

__

Eli collapsed on top of Athelstan, letting out a long moan, “That. Was. Unbelievable!”

__

Athelstan said nothing in response and buried his face in the furs to hide his shame.

__

After a moment, Eli pulled out of Athelstan and rolled over to lay beside him. He began toying with ends of Athelstan's hair, humming silently.

__

A few minutes of relative silence passed before Eli asked, “Was that good for you, Athelstan?”

__

Athelstan kept his back turned to Eli, refusing to answer. Maybe if Eli thought that Athelstan didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't try again but Athelstan already knew that was fruitless. 

__

Instead he continued to ignore Eli and pulled the furs over him, blocking out Eli and the rest of the world. He stayed there for the rest of night and all throughout the day, in perpetual silence with Eli.

 


	4. FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say about this chapter other than it's a bit shorter than the others but not by much, just a smidge!!
> 
> I hope everyone likes this chapter, please feel free to leave comments!! I appreciate the feedback immensely:)
> 
>  
> 
> [https://www.pinterest.com/addisonmalvezzi/blood-rain-ch-4/](url)

_'Without health life is not life; it is only a state of langour and suffering -- an image of death.'_

_\- Buddha_

* * *

It happened again the next night. And the next. And the next. Athelstan knew he could not refuse Eli, so he laid with him. Every night. But he never spoke. He could not bring himself to. Instead he said silent prayers in his head, repeated them like a mantra, although a deep part of him felt he way past salvation now.

 

Five days passed until Eli finally grew bored of Athelstan’s silence and quietly decided it was time to move on to the next village in their slow journey back to his home. But not before he made Athelstan feed.

 

Athelstan had not tasted a drop of blood ever since that night with Vigdis and the man at the feast and he was beginning to feel _off_.

 

_Weak._

 

His skin was becoming paler than usual, and it seemed almost paper thin. He was becoming less...responsive during sex with Eli, finding he had barely any strength to do so even if he wanted to. He also found that even his heightened senses were dulled slightly.

 

Athelstan relished in this feeling; he felt as if he was finally paying penance for what he had done. God was finally punishing him. He deserved it.

 

Eli, on the other hand, was quickly growing tired of Athelstan's lingering feelings for his past life and past beliefs. He wanted Athelstan to be his: mind, body, and soul. Now.

 

But Eli had a plan.

 

It came in the form of a young woman, who had just arrived in the small village near Kattegat the day before Eli planned to leave with Athelstan.

 

Eli was away from the hut, he wanted to get away from Athelstan's insufferable silence. He walked aimlessly through the village, scoping out his next potential victim when he saw her. Her face was half-hidden but Eli knew in an instant when she turned towards him exactly who she was and knew for certain that Athelstan would too.

 

Things were about to get _interesting_.

 

That night, Athelstan cautiously waited for Eli to return to hut so they could get on with their sex before Athelstan went right back to ignoring him. Eli had not returned since he left that morning, and Athelstan wondered what on Earth could he be up to? The village was quite small, their numbers were nowhere near Kattegat’s. There was no way, even if he had fed on the entire village, that it would take all day.

 

Athelstan hoped against hope that Eli was dead face down in the dirt somewhere. Athelstan hated Eli more and more with each passing day, he couldn't stand the monster Eli had created in him. He hated laying in bed with Eli each night but he had no other choice. He just prayed that he would die from starvation before Eli set upon him another dastardly plan but before he could get his hopes up, Eli walked through the door of the hut.

 

“Athelstan! How lovely it is to see you,” Eli cooed.

 

Athelstan eyed him coldly from his place at the table. He had been sitting there, staring into nothingness, ever since the sun went down; that's all he ever did those days--stare into the abyss.

 

Eli’s smile melted off his face at Athelstan’s stony silence, “I see you are still upset. But that should not last long, for while I was out I found the perfect thing to cheer you up! Come on in, dear.”

 

Athelstan slowly tore his eyes away from Eli and looked to the door. He could not believe his eyes, for in walked--

 

“Thorunn!” exclaimed Athelstan, shocked out of his daze.

 

“Ah, so he speaks!” Eli mocked.

 

Thorunn walked inside the hut with an apprehensive look on her face. She was wearing a simple cream dress and donning furs. Her face was still half-obscured by a cloth that covered a scar that marred her face.

 

She stared at Athelstan in amazement, “So you _are_ alive! I almost did not believe Eli but now--” She looked sad, almost, at seeing him.

 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Athelstan finally managed. He stood up and walked over to her.

 

“I could ask you the same question,” teased Thorunn.

 

“It's a long story…” Athelstan trailed off.

 

“Yes I understand _that_ ,” Thorunn said. She looked at him curiously before tentatively placing a hand on his face. “You are so pale now, your eyes are rimmed with red. You are _cold_ to the touch. Are you well?”

 

Athelstan slowly moved her hand away from his face and said, “I am as well as ever, Thorunn. Do not worry.”

 

They stared at each other in awkward silence. Athelstan could not find the words to speak. He wanted to ask how was Ragnar, was he happy? But he couldn't. To speak Ragnar’s name now would invite agony and Athelstan could not handle that.

 

Not now.

 

Besides, neither Athelstan or Thorunn were particularly close to the other, especially when Athelstan was alive but she was still Bjorn’s wife and mother of his child, although Athelstan saw no sign of the child in her arms now.

 

Athelstan feared the worst; what was she doing _here_ , with Eli, Athelstan intended to find out.

 

After a moment Eli broke the awkward silence and said, “Well, _Athelstan_? Aren't you going to invite the lovely young woman to sit down?”

 

Athelstan shot a quick glare to Eli, who was wearing a sly grin on his face, before turning back to Thorunn, “Right. Please, sit down, Thorunn. Are you alone?”

 

Athelstan moved to sit down, feeling better once he was situated. He was getting weaker.

 

_Good._

 

“Yes,” Thorunn said after sitting down. “I am alone.”

 

That didn't sound good. Why would she be here instead of Kattegat, caring for her newborn child?

 

Another awkward silence ensued as they looked away from each other.  

 

Eli rolled his eyes, “Really Athelstan, I go through all this trouble for you to see one of your family again and you don't even _say anything!_ ”

 

Athelstan turned to glare at Eli, “ _What_ did you _do_?

 

Eli scoffed, “If you are insinuating that _I_ stole Thorunn away from Kattegat and brought her here, you are sorely mistaken.”

 

“Then how else is she here?!”

 

“I have no idea, I didn't ask! I just saw her and thought that _you_ seeing _her_ might cheer you up, seeing as you've been so morose these past few days.” Eli said, exasperated.

 

“Oh please!” scoffed Athelstan.

 

“ _Actually--_ ” Thorunn cut in over their rising voices, “I came here on my own. I left Kattegat willingly.”

 

Eli made a motion with his hands-- _see?_

 

Athelstan still glared at Eli, “How do I know this isn't one of your tricks?”

 

“I can compel her to tell the truth, but I promise it will be the same story,” Eli offered.

 

“Compel me?” Thorunn asked.

 

“Nothing!” Athelstan said quickly, “Nothing at all. Thorunn, may I ask why you are here and not in Kattegat?”

 

Thorunn looked as though she expected this question but was still unprepared to answer it. “I do not wish to talk about it. Please, Athelstan.” She looked at him with sad, pleading eyes.

 

Athelstan nodded, feeling sorry for her.

 

“I know what we can talk about!” Eli exclaimed, sitting down next to Thorunn. He got up close and fingered her hair away from her neck, “ _Feeding_.” Quick as lightning his eyes turned red and black and his fangs elongated. He roughly bit Thorunn’s neck before Athelstan could stop him.

 

“No!” shouted Athelstan. He lunged across the table at Eli with a strong burst of energy but it was already too late. He could smell the blood as he tackled both of them to the ground. It had been _days_ since he last fed and the monster was _famished_.

 

Athelstan thought that by starving himself, it would make the monster weak and therefore easier to subdue, but he was wrong. The monster, in this desperate, starving state, was able to easily overthrow Athelstan’s sense of self control and before he knew what he doing, he was biting Thorunn where Eli had only seconds before.

 

Her blood tasted so sweet in his mouth. Athelstan forgot just how _good_ human blood tasted. That goat’s blood from the ritual was _nothing_ compared to this.

 

He could hear her heartbeat in his ears. As it became fainter, did Athelstan come to his senses. He flashed away from her and up against the corner of the hut.

 

“What's the matter, Athelstan?” Eli asked from his place on the floor next to the dying Thorunn.

 

“I won't kill her, Eli!” raged Athelstan, desperate and on the verge of tears.

 

Eli groaned and rolled his eyes, “Fine, fine. Come here sweetie, it's ok.” He helped Thorunn off the floor. She was weak in his arms but she wasn't crying. She seemed oddly...subdued.

 

Then Athelstan got it.

 

“You compelled her already, didn't you?!” Athelstan accused.

 

“Of course I did! I didn't want her make a fuss when you killed her--”

 

“I'm NOT going to kill her!”

 

“Alright, alright!” Eli raised his hands in mock surrender. He cradled Thorunn’s face in hands.

 

Then, to Athelstan's horror, Eli snapped Thorunn’s neck.

 

Eli let her body fall to the floor and so did Athelstan, finally succumbing to all the loss he had felt in the past few days. Something warm trickled down his cheeks, he thought they were tears until he touched his tear tracks and came away with blood on his fingers.

 

He crawled over to Thorunn’s body and cradled her head in hands, with blood tears still streaming down his face. When he pulled her head into his lap, her face covering fell away to reveal--

 

_Nothing!_

 

“Wher-where is her scar?” Athelstan blurted stupidly.

 

“Oh! Didn't I tell you?” Eli teased, faking surprise. “I gave her my blood, after I told her what it does to a human. Poor thing was practically begging for it.”

 

“And _what does strigi_ blood do to a human?” asked Athelstan, still angry but curious as to why Thorunn would beg for it.

 

He circled around them. “ _Strigi_ blood heals any wound, Athelstan. It healed her scar. I had to put a cloth over her face because the girl apparently decided to stop wearing one... _humans_ , so inconvenient!" Eli stopped to look at his nails before adding, "Also...if you _die_ like Thorunn just did with _strigi_ blood in your system, you come back--as one of _us_.”

 

Athelstan was speechless for a moment.

 

“She's no-not dead?” Athelstan managed.

 

“Haf’taah*!” Eli yelled, spreading his arms for emphasis.

 

A moment passed before Athelstan seethed, “You _truly_ are a bastard, Eli." He looked back down at Thorunn through his tears.

 

“Oh your words, they wound me,” Eli laughed and touched his chest where his heart would be.

 

If he even had a heart. Athelstan wasn't so sure.

 

“Thorunn…” Athelstan murmured, stroking her hair.

 

Athelstan was in shock. He could not wrap his head around the fact that Thorunn was now becoming a _strigi_ like him. It was so soon after his own transformation. How was he going to help and guide Thorunn when _he_ didn't even know his way? Where they both at the mercy of Eli?

 

_Eli…_

 

 _“_ So you really compelled her to forget she drank your blood, so I could let my guard down and bite her so she would die and change,” accused Athelstan. “But why her? Did you know her, before?”

 

“Who, Thorunn?” Eli asked, looking confused.

 

Athelstan was not amused.

 

Eli sighed, “ _No_ . I did not know Thorunn _before_. I knew who she was though, figured you could use the company.”

 

“What, are you not enough, Eli?” mocked Athelstan.

 

Eli’s eyes went dark, “I am _more_ than enough. I was just trying to be nice.”

 

“Oh, well thank you, then, Eli, for everything!”

 

Eli rolled his eyes at Athelstan's sarcasm, “It is no matter to me whether you are mad or not, Athelstan. You can hate me all you like, but I'm all you got to help you in this new _life_.”

 

“And now all Thorunn has too. You've condemned us both to hell!” Athelstan spat.

 

“You speak of hell as if you know a thing about it!” Eli raged.

 

Athelstan was taken aback, “Do you know hell? _Truly?_ ”

 

Eli looked away, uncomfortable, “I told you I was done with storytime for awhile, Athelstan.” His voice was tense.

 

Athelstan closed his mouth at Eli’s tone. He decided it was not worth it to pick a fight with Eli, not know anyways. His focus was on Thorunn. He felt an odd need to protect her; he felt guilty, feeling as though her death--and subsequent “un-death”--was his fault. He felt as though he owed Ragnar, even in death, to protect his family.

 

Athelstan sat on the floor for hours with Thorunn’s head in his lap, absentmindedly stroking her hair in contemplation. He watched as she transformed before his eyes, skin paling with slight red rings underneath her eyes and glossier hair. 

 

Suddenly she sat up, wide awake and gasping in pain. Athelstan remembered what it was like to wake up from death, the magick of the transformation burning him from the inside out. It was probably the most painful experience in his whole existence so far, and he had been crucified! He empathized with what Thorunn was going through. 

 

“Thorunn! Thorunn!” Athelstan yelled, grabbing her arms and trying to settle her.

 

She arched her back in pain, letting out a scream. She writhed on the floor, moaning in pain until it subsided enough that she could form somewhat coherent sentences.

 

“Wh-what is happening to-to me?” Thorunn stuttered out.

 

“You’ve died, Thorunn. You’re in transition,” Eli explained, looming over her and Athelstan.

 

“Tran-transition into _what_?” Thorunn looked horrified.

 

“A _strigi_.”

 

“I'm li-like _you_ n-now?” Thorunn asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“What doe-does that me-mean?” Thorunn asked.

 

“It _means_ that you need to eat.”

 

“Ea-eat?” gasped out Thorunn.

 

“Yes, my dear. The price of immortality is high. You must _feed_ and soon, unless you'd rather die again.”

 

“I-I'm _immortal_?” Thorunn looked to be in shock.

 

“You mean to tell me that if I hadn't fed on this poor former owner’s wife, I would have died?!” Athelstan demanded.

 

“Oh...did I forget to mention that?” Eli teased.

 

“I wish I could kill you,” Athelstan was incensed.

 

“Awh, too bad,” Eli pretended to pout.

 

“Athelstan,” Thorunn finally said, after a few moments of silence. She was sounding clearer now, less pain in her voice. “Why is it that I can hear _everything?_ ”

 

“It's part of being this way, from what I have gathered, being a _strigi_ heightens every single one of your senses,” Athelstan tried explained soothingly.

 

“You would know about _that_ , wouldn’t you Athelstan?” Eli teased, smirking his devious smile.

 

Athelstan shot him a glare. Eli only smirked harder.

 

“I'm so _hungry_ , Athelstan, so hungry,” Thorunn clutched her stomach.

 

“Shh, shh,” Athelstan rubbed her arms. “We-we’ll--we’ll get you...something to eat.”

 

“Oh good! One last feed before we leave tomorrow!” Eli clapped his hands.

 

Athelstan helped Thorunn to her feet, unsteady at first, and turned to Eli, “We are leaving?”

 

“ _Yes_ , Athelstan. You want to be able to walk in the sun again don't you?” Eli cocked his head to the side.

 

Thorunn looked at them, confused, “We can't walk in the sun?”

 

“ _I_ can, you can't,” Eli elaborated. “So we’ll have to travel under the cover of darkness until we get back to my main home.”

 

“And where is your main home, _exactly_?” Athelstan questioned.

 

“England,” answered Eli.

 

“England,” repeated Athelstan. “And how exactly are we going to get to England?”

 

“We are going to find a boat in one of these seaside villages and steal it.”

 

“But what about the sun?”

 

“I'll cover you with a blanket!”

 

Their argument was cut short when Thorunn suddenly doubled over in pain.

 

“ _That_ would be your hunger pangs. They are _quite_ nasty!” Eli said

 

“What do I have to eat?” Thorunn ground out.

 

“Well, _actually_ , it’s what you have to _drink_...Blood. Human blood.”

 

“I have to drink _human blood_?” Thorunn asked incredulously.

 

“I _told_ you, the price of immortality is _quite_ high.”

 

“Do I have to?” Thorunn asked, disgusted by the thought.

 

“ _Yes_ . Unless you want to dessicate and mummify like Athelstan here almost did. But don't worry about the taste, I promise it's _delicious,”_ Eli licked his lips.

 

Athelstan rolled his eyes.

 

“Oh, Athelstan you might want to wipe your face, you got blood all over it, and it's crusted,” Eli made a face.

 

Athelstan forgot about the blood tears.

 

“How come I can cry?” Athelstan asked.

 

“ _Strigi_ only cry when they feel _strong_ sadness...don't worry you won't cry every time you feel bad about killing someone,” Eli teased. “And since we are technically _dead_ , you cry _blood_.”

 

Athelstan quickly wiped the crusted blood off his face with the sleeve of his dark grey tunic.

 

Moments pass before Eli says, “Well, come on! We only got so many hours of nighttime. Athelstan I know you just _ate_ ,” Eli smirked at his word choice, “but do come along, maybe you could learn somethings.”

 

Athelstan only glared in response.

 

They made their way outside of the hut, Thorunn hobbling along, still doubled over in pain. They walked to the nearest home and Eli knocked on the door.

 

Athelstan wondered what Eli was playing at.

 

After a moment of silence, there was shuffling inside the home before someone answered the door. This someone was a brute of a man, thick arms, thick neck, thick _skull._

 

“What do you want?” The man asked Eli gruffly.

 

“Forgive me, my _wife_ here is recently with child and is having horrible stomach pains from the hunger. We have been living off soup for weeks but she needs something _meatier_. I was wondering if you had any meat to spare?” Eli was completely charming.

 

“I don't just give food away,” the man grumbled.

 

“Don't be rude!” yelled what seemed to be the man’s wife for he went red as if he had been chastised.

 

The flare of red in the man’s face must have caused Thorunn’s stomach to lurch in hunger, like Athelstan's did, for she gasped in pain.

 

The wife appeared at the door behind her husband. She was a pretty young thing, like Thorunn, with hair as red as flame. She took one look at Thorunn and said, “Look at the poor girl. Let them come inside, we have plenty of meat.”

 

“Oh it's not your meat she’ll want,” lazed out Eli.

 

The man and his wife looked at Eli, confused.

 

“Well-what do you want then?” demanded the man.

 

“ _Your blood_ ,” Eli’s fangs popped out within seconds and he quickly grabbed the man and began ravaging his neck.

 

The woman barely got her voice out to scream before Thorunn grabbed her, sensing the blood and desperate.

 

Athelstan closed his eyes but he could still hear the sounds of them draining that couple dry. He was astonished at how easily Thorunn killed that woman, with seemingly no remorse. Although, maybe being a _shieldmaiden_ made her able to shut out those emotions of taking a human life.

 

Athelstan stopped his thoughts right there. Thinking about shieldmaidens made him think about Lagertha, which in turn made him think about Ragnar, and that was dangerous.

 

Soon, Eli and Thorunn were through with their _meal_.  Their dead bodies fell to the ground.

 

“Quick,” Eli said to Thorunn and Athelstan. “Help me move the bodies into the house.”

 

“Aren't you going to bury them?” Athelstan asked.

 

“No. We’ll be long gone before they even begin to suspect us,” Eli answered. He grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and pulled him inside his hut.

 

Athelstan and Thorunn glanced at each other before each grabbing the woman and easily pulling her inside too. They laid her beside her husband, on their bed.

 

Athelstan whispered a silent prayer but Eli heard him nonetheless and asked, “Are you really going to pray for all of our victims?”

 

“ _Someone_ has to!” shot back Athelstan.

 

“I highly doubt they'd want your silly, _Christian_ prayers.”

 

Eli had a point.

 

It was silent for a minute until Thorunn turned the conversation to a place Athelstan had been dreading since she turned.

 

“How long until I can get this hunger under control?”

 

“ _Mm..._ That could take many years. Why?” Eli answered.

 

“Now that my scar is gone, I want to go back and live with Bjorn, and maybe try to be the mother of my child,” Thorunn looked so hopeful and determined, Athelstan did not want her hear the next words that came out of Eli’s mouth. But hear them she must.

 

“Go back? You _can't_ go back, _matok*_. Your old life? It's over,” Eli stated.

 

Thorunn was taken aback. Then, her face screwed up in anger. Her eyes were rimmed red with slight tears.

 

“You cannot tell me what to do, I am a free woman now!” She yelled angrily.

 

“You think you can survive without _me_ ? _Your maker_ ? It is my obligation to watch over you, to mature into a suitable _strigi_ ,” Eli argued.

 

“I can survive on my own!” Thorunn took a stance. “But it's not like you gave me a choice in this life!”

 

“Argh! There it is again, _choice!_ What is it with you people, I made you _so much better_ than you ever were as pathetic _humans_!” Eli yelled.

 

Thorunn turned stony, “You do _not_ call me pathetic. I do what I want now. If I am _better_ as you said, then I deserve to be with Bjorn again.”

 

Eli flashed over to her and snatched her chin to make her look him in the eyes, “You listen to me and you listen good. You are to _never go back to Kattegat_ , _you follow me now,_ understand me?”

 

Thorunn nodded dumbly, under his spell.

 

Eli smiled, his temper gone as quick as it came, “Good. Because I believe it's about time for you and Athelstan to get away from the openings in the hut for the day.”

 

Eli was right, now that Athelstan was a _strigi_ , he could sense whenever sunrise was coming and he could sense it coming now.

 

“What do we have to do to avoid the sunlight?” Thorunn asked.

 

“Well, Athelstan here has taken to _hiding_ under the furs but honestly, as long as you stay away from the openings, you should be fine.” Eli smirked.

 

“You bastard! You _told_ me to go under the furs, I thought there was no other way!” Athelstan yelled.

 

“Yes, I couldn't believe you were so gullible,” Eli chuckled.

 

“What else have you been lying to me about?” Athelstan demanded.

 

Eli paused, pretending to think, “I think that was it.”

 

“Oh you _think,_ do you?”

 

“Oh will you just _shut your mouth_ for once!” Eli demanded.

 

Athelstan shut his mouth. Not because he was compelled but because he didn't want to expose Thorunn to Eli’s violent temper. Although, with how headstrong Thorunn was, Athelstan could imagine her seeing it firsthand very soon. When Eli snatched her chin and compelled her, that only scratched the surface of his violent nature. Athelstan hoped Thorunn would never have to witness it, he knew that would not go over well.

 

Eli motioned for Athelstan and Thorunn to follow him and they scurried out of the hut and back to the one Eli and Athelstan had been occupying.

 

After arriving back in the hut and situating himself away from the slats in the wall, grateful he didn't have to lay under the furs anymore, Athelstan finally spoke again, “So we _are_ leaving tomorrow, correct?”

 

Eli sighed, “Yes, Athelstan, we are leaving tomorrow, and we’ll grab those furs too.”

 

“ _Why_?” Thorunn suddenly spoke up. She had been sitting at the table, fascinated by the flame in the candle on the table.

 

“ _Because_ ,” Eli breathed. “What if we get caught on the journey home in the sun? You’ll need something to cover yourself with.”

 

“So we’ll be carrying around _furs_?” Athelstan asked incredulously.

 

“Well what else is there, Athelstan? I wasn't exactly _looking_ to change two _strigis_ when I came here!” Eli exclaimed.

 

Athelstan looked away, awkward. He went to sit by Thorunn at the table, trying to fill the awkward silence.

 

Eli sighed and sat across from them.

 

A few moments of silence passed before Thorunn spoke again, looking away from the flame once more, “What does all this mean?”

 

Eli looked up from examining his nails, “What do you mean?”

 

“Being a _strigi_ ,” Thorunn elaborated.

 

“Oh _that_ ,” Eli sighed. “Well, what do _you_ think it means?”

 

Thorunn looked at the flame again before answering, “I think it means that _I'm different_ . But _how_?”

 

“Honestly it's _real confusing_ . A lot of _magick_ involved and all. Just know, there are two ways to create a _strigi_ : the way I did you--”

 

“Feeding me your blood and then killing me,” Thorunn finished for him. She looked at him with a neutral expression on her face. The compulsion from earlier must have made an effect on her mind about Eli changing her too. Now that she was compelled to never go back to Kattegat, nothing was holding her back from being a _strigi_.

 

“You remember him feeding you his blood?” Athelstan asked. “You were compelled.”

 

“Compulsion from when you were a human wears off when you become a _strigi_ ,” Eli smirked.

 

“What's the other way?” Thorunn asked.

 

Eli raised his eyebrows.

 

“To create a _strigi_. You said there were two ways.”

 

“Oh yes, well the other way, I did to your friend Athelstan here,” Eli waved his arm in Athelstan's direction.

 

Thorunn turned to Athelstan expectantly.

 

Athelstan hesitated before saying, “He _raised_ me, with magick. I'm not quite sure _how_ , I just know he did.”

 

Thorunn was surprised, “He _raised you from the dead?!_ ”

 

Athelstan nodded jerkily.

 

“ _Wow_.”

 

Eli faked looking bashful, “It was nothing. Just a little _magick_ passed down to me from The First.”

 

“The First?” Thorunn asked.

 

“The First _Strigi_ ,” Athelstan explained. “Eli’s told me _very little_ about him.” He shot a glare at Eli.

 

“I'll tell you more when I _want_ to tell you more,” Eli stated matter of factly.

 

Athelstan bit his tongue. He turned to look at the candle himself like Thorunn was doing, trying to distract himself from Eli’s deceptive ways.

 

Eli was always lying or withholding the truth. Athelstan wasn't sure he'd ever know the full story about _anything_ regarding being a _strigi_.

 

Athelstan focused on the flame; it was flickering this way and that. As he looked at the flame, he noticed that, with his new eyes, he could notice every tiny detail of the flame, from the wick to the tip. The colors of the flame he could now see clearly, colors he had never seen before, when he was _human_. Athelstan now knew why Thorunn seemed so lost in the flame. It was intoxicating to just watch it flicker. He could feel his senses honing in on the flame, he was using all of his energy to focus on it and nothing else.

 

Soon, everything else melted away.

 

All that he knew was the flame.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a surprise, wasn't it?
> 
> Haf'taah - surprise  
> matok - sweetheart


	5. FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update, guys! I've been dealing with some personal stuff and have just not been able to get myself to post but here I am now, better late than never! Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Please leave comments and such, I really mean it when I say it makes my day <3

_'One thing you can't hide - is when you're crippled inside.'_

_\- John Lennon_

* * *

Athelstan gazed into the flame until it finally died out around midday. He didn't dare move from his place at the table, though. There was an opening in the hut just out of Athelstan's reach and if he moved, he would be directly in the sunlight. He didn't necessarily mind this but he knew Eli would throw a fit if he put himself in harm’s way directly, so he stayed put. Thorunn, in her newborn haze, did not seem to even notice the candle going out, for she continued to stare at it long after it had gone out. Athelstan figured she was lost in her own head; it was so easy to do so once you were a  _ strigi _ . Athelstan had to shake her out of her daze once night fell, for it was time for them to move on.

Before they left, Eli made Thorunn and Athelstan do a sweep of the hut, searching for anything they might need or want.

When Athelstan tried to argue that Eli was encouraging them to steal, Eli argued back, saying, “It’s not stealing if the person who owned these things is  _ dead _ .”

Athelstan wanted to argue against that logic but bit his tongue. He figured arguing about it to Eli would only make him angry, which in turn would cause them to be late setting off, which would only make Eli angrier so Athelstan decided not. It was not worth the effort. 

_ Besides _ , a traitorous voice whispered in his head,  _ Eli is right. They  _ _ are _ _ dead. _

Athelstan tried to push the voice away, he already felt the beast within roaring inside his chest, must it infiltrate his mind now too? Was Athelstan doomed to wrestle with this  _ demon _ inside of him for all of eternity? 

Thorunn seemed to have no problem with the concept of stealing a dead man’s things and promptly rifled through the chest at the end of the bed. The first thing she saw was the looking glass, which she immediately grabbed. She spent some minutes admiring her reflection; the last time she saw it, her face was marred by an ugly scar. Now, her skin was clear once more, if not a little pale. She was disappointed to see her eyes were also rimmed with red, like Athelstan’s, but the coloring was slight and didn't bother her much. She was just happy to have her face back again. When she was human, she took great pride in her appearance and so it was a huge blow to her psyche to have that scar across her face. 

Setting the looking glass aside, Thorunn continued to rifle through the trunk and found a satchel in which they rolled up the furs and stuffed them inside. She also found a bottle of some oil which Eli quickly snatched from her hands and placed it into his own satchel. She did not notice Athelstan's eyes boring holes in the back of Eli’s skull. 

Athelstan knew what Eli intended to do with  _ that _ and did not want to think about it. Not now that Thorunn was here. Athelstan had held onto a little hope that maybe with Thorunn now joining Eli and Athelstan, Eli would stop pulling Athelstan into his bed, but he saw now that that hope was useless. Eli planned to be with Athelstan for a long time, whereas Athelstan wished he could find a moment to run away. 

But where would he go?

He couldn't go back to Ragnar now, even if he wanted to. He was conquering Paris and shouldn't be bothered by this  _ thing _ Athelstan had become. Athelstan could not bear the thought of Ragnar seeing him like  _ this _ , a monster. What if he harmed him? Or one of his family? He could easily rip Ragnar’s throat out without even realizing he'd done it now. He couldn't imagine Ragnar ever loving him like this. He could barely entertain the thought when he was alive, even when Ragnar confessed to him. Oh, how Athelstan wished he could turn back time to that moment, to just hear those words from Ragnar's lips once more:

_ I love you _ .

He wanted to look into those bright blue eyes as deep as the ocean and tell him  _ everything  _ he meant to him. How, without him, the world seems much bleaker in comparison, even with the heightened senses. 

Before he died, Athelstan told Ragnar that what mattered to him was where Ragnar was going, after this life. If only Athelstan could have foreseen just what was in store for himself, after he died. Maybe, he if knew who Eli was and what he had planned for him, he could have taken Ragnar and left Kattegat in the night, never to be seen from again. But even as he thought it, he knew that would have never happened. Ragnar would have never abandoned his post as King. He would also never run away from a fight, that just wasn't in his nature. No, he would have challenged Eli to a duel, which he would have lost, making Athelstan Eli’s all over again. The more Athelstan thought about it, the more inevitable it seemed that he was always going to end up with Eli.

These thoughts haunted Athelstan as he helped Thorunn pack away the furs and, after some deliberation, the looking glass as well. They packed it in between the two furs that were in the satchel so it would be safe from breakage. 

When they were done packing, the satchel looked very puffed up and definitely over stuffed but it would have to do. Eli elected Athelstan to carry it, as he was carrying one of his own already.

Then, in the dark of night, they were off. They ghosted through the village, not making a sound as they passed through. Athelstan fought the urge to look back, back through the village and to Kattegat. His home. But Ragnar wasn't there anymore. He was in Paris. He had moved on with his life. Athelstan thought maybe he should as well.

Before they fully left the village, Eli made a low noise to indicate that Thorunn and Athelstan stop.

“So they  _ do _ have horses!” Eli whispered excitedly, pointing.

Athelstan was confused until he smelt it: the overpowering smell of horses filled his nostrils. It was now especially strong with his heightened senses and he fought the urge to make a face. He looked to where Eli was pointing and saw them. A small group of horses tied to a post outside of the Long Hall. 

“Must be visitors,” Athelstan mused as he stared.

“Yes, visitors who are about to be short a few horses,” Eli replied gleefully. He set off towards the horses, Thorunn following him behind.

Only Athelstan stayed rooted where he was. He whispered furiously, knowing Eli could hear him from across the yard, “We are  _ not  _ stealing those horses!”

Eli only laughed as he coaxed the horses out of the bindings, “Well, if you wish, I can  _ kill _ their owners, if that will make it  _ easier  _ for you.”

“No! Don't kill them!” Athelstan whisper-yelled.

Eli and Thorunn walked back over to Athelstan, two horses being led by Eli and one being led by Thorunn. 

“ _ Relax _ , Athelstan, I was only joking,” Eli held out one of the reins to Athelstan, “We  _ need  _ these horses, we’ll get where we’re going faster. Now, do you know how to ride one or not?”

Athelstan glared at Eli a moment before reluctantly snatching the reins out of his hand, “ _ Yes,  _ I know how to  _ ride one _ !”

Eli raised his hands in mock surrender, “Just inquiring, Athelstan. No need to  _ bite  _ my head off.”

Athelstan only glared harder.

Eli ignored Athelstan’s glare and moved to mount the horse but the horse was spooked by him and kept moving away. Athelstan had to bite back a laugh as Eli fought the horse into submission before it finally allowed him to mount him. 

Eli huffed, situated on the horse, and turned to Athelstan, Thorunn had already followed Eli’s lead and was mounting her own horse, very awkwardly as she was in a dress. 

“Well,  _ get on your horse _ , Athelstan,” Eli commanded.

Athelstan could not help but to look into Eli’s eyes and the next moment he was mounting the horse without a second thought. 

Eli had compelled Athelstan again.

Being compelled by Eli was something Athelstan feared everyday. What if Eli compelled him to do something awful, like kill numerous people, because it humored him, or  _ worse _ , compel him to forget Ragnar and his family; Athelstan would be helpless to stop it. He saw just how easily Eli compelled, without a thought to spare about how it would affect the person he was compelling. 

_ Like Thorunn _ …

She would never again go back to Kattegat, now that Eli had compelled her. She would never see Bjorn or her daughter again, she was just as tied to Eli as Athelstan was now, except she didn't realize it. In her mind, it was as if all thoughts of going back to Kattegat had been erased. She knew she was leaving behind Bjorn and their daughter, but the compulsion left her thinking it was what she had to do. She still missed them terribly but she knew she could never go back, she just didn't know why. All she saw in her mind was her new state of being. She  _ liked _ feeling like this, the  _ power _ it imbues to the one’s who are lucky enough to be granted this gift. Thorunn felt no sadness as she, Eli, and Athelstan, who had mounted his horse, began to trot away from the village and away from Kattegat for good. In fact, for the first time in Thorunn’s life, she felt  _ free _ . Free of any weakness like being injured. She did not realize, as they left behind the village, that she was just as trapped as Athelstan was.

The small group started their journey with a light trot on their horses until they were confident enough in their riding abilities to go faster. Soon, they were flying through the forest, keeping to the seaside.

“Remember,” Eli called over his shoulder to Athelstan and Thorunn, “we need to find a village by the sea, they’ll have boats that we can use.”

“You mean we can  _ steal _ ,” Athelstan muttered under his breath.

“What was that, Athelstan?” Eli continued to ride.

“Nothing!” called Athelstan. 

Thorunn, who had heard him, shot him a quick smirk. Athelstan ignored her and spurred his horse to go faster. 

They galloped through the forest for awhile until their horses needed to slow down to rest. Athelstan did not want to slow down, the feeling of wind rushing past his face was liberating. He felt as if he was flying, far away from the sadness that had engulfed him. 

“Do we have any water for them?” Athelstan asked, looking at his horse as they slowed down to a trot.

Eli held up a flagon that Athelstan did not see on his person before, “I saw this in the bag attached to my horse. It's filled with water. Check the bags on your horses.”

Athelstan looked back to the bag attached to the saddle of the horse. He reached back, careful to keep the horse out of the way of the trees in the forest. Digging around inside he found a flagon of what he presumed to be water, a blanket of fur folded up tightly, and some food, which included dried fish. Athelstan had no use for the dried fish, seeing as he was dead and no longer needed the sustenance, but he knew Eli would.

“I found a flagon of water,” called Athelstan. “And some dried fish…”

Eli stopped his horse and abruptly pulled around to face Athelstan. Thorunn stopped her horse as well.

“You found dried fish?” Eli asked.

Athelstan nodded.

“Wonderful! That must mean another seaside village isn't far off!” Eli exclaimed.

Finally, Athelstan had to ask, “How come you don't already know this, if you travelled here.”

“Because young one, I hijacked one of the boats on the way back to Kattegat from Wessex. Remember how I told you I came to Kattegat when you did the second time? I compelled everyone on board to think me as one of their own and then, once in Kattegat, I slipped into the shadows. I've never explored much of this land,” Eli explained.

“What were you doing in Wessex?” Athelstan asked.

“Because I heard that the one who bested King Aella was coming and I just  _ had _ to have a look for myself. Believe me when I say, it's very easy to infiltrate as one of their own as a  _ strigi _ . You two will learn when we arrive back in England,” Eli indicated to both Athelstan and Thorunn.

Athelstan still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he was going back to England, again. Perhaps England was always destined to be his home. In truth, despite Ragnar's assurances, Athelstan still sometimes felt like an outsider in Kattegat. It was still his home assuredly but he never could escape some of their scathing looks. They were always calling him “that  _ Christian _ ”, as if it were so bad to be so. In the end, however, it seemed that being a Christian is what got Athelstan into his current predicament. After everything that had happened, so quickly, Athelstan wasn't sure  _ what  _ he believed in. Eli kept speaking as if he knew what God thought of him and the rest of the  _ strigis _ but that would be impossible. No one on this Earth could know such things, could they? He wasn't so sure now.

Athelstan had a sinking feeling that he’d be an outsider wherever he went now, even if he did  _ infiltrate _ among others. He wasn't human now. There was no way he’d ever again feel like he belonged. Even in his homeland. A pang of sadness hit Athelstan so he spurred his horse to go faster, trying to block out the pain.

They rode all through the night, staying close to edge of forest in case they heard the telltale signs of the ocean or people milling about. They heard neither that first night so, as dawn was approaching, Eli ordered they stop and let the horses rest and feed. They stopped where a huge boulder sat in the middle of the forest and tied the horses around the trees around them. Athelstan and Thorunn were told by Eli to wrap the furs they had with them as a cloak and sit against the boulder. He told them the boulder would cover the sun enough to where they could keep their faces uncovered but they were, under no circumstances, allowed to look around the boulder until the sun went down.

Athelstan and Thorunn sat there for hours, not really talking to the other. Athelstan guessed, since Thorunn was new to being a  _ strigi _ like Athelstan was, that she was hungry. So was Athelstan. 

Athelstan hated Eli with all his being for making him this way, with this seemingly insatiable hunger that’s always there, in the pit of Athelstan's stomach, with the monster demanding to be fed.

His hatred must’ve shown on his face for Eli turned to him after feeding the horses and said, “What are you glowering at Athelstan?”

Athelstan tried to school his face to look more neutral but knew he was failing, “Nothing.”

“Oh I suppose that’s your normal face then?” Eli shot back. He was looking for a reaction.

Athelstan gave him one, “Why do you care what my face looks like?” 

What Eli said made Athelstan look away, suddenly shy under the intensity of his stare, “Because you look beautiful when you smile, not when you glower.”

Thorunn looked at Eli and Athelstan, encased in her furs, and finally spoke, “Are you two having sex?” She had always been blunt, especially since becoming a free woman.

Athelstan sputtered, “N-no!” 

He gathered himself then replied more firmly, “No.”

Eli only laughed and came to sit down beside Thorunn and asked, “Would you be upset if there was something going on between us?”

Thorunn looked at him, “I was once a  _ slave _ . Who am I to judge?” She turned to Athelstan, “But I always thought it was  _ Ragnar _ you were secretly with, Athelstan.”

Athelstan did not know what to say to this. Thorunn thought that  _ he and Ragnar _ were together? No, that never happened, Athelstan was sure of it. Although, there were moments that made Athelstan think--

_ No. _

_ ‘No need to dwell on the past now,’  _ thought Athelstan.

“I thought Athelstan was with Ragnar too, when I first came to Kattegat,” Eli informed Thorunn. “The way they would look at each other…” Eli trailed off for a moment before saying, “But they never were. I would know, I asked.”

“Compelled, you mean,” Athelstan couldn't help himself.

Eli waved a hand, “Compelled, asked! They’re the same thing.”

“No, they’re not!” argued Athelstan, his furs slipping as he leaned his head forward toward Eli.

Eli leaned forward as well, until their faces were barely apart. Was Eli really going to do this here? Now? With Thorunn watching? But Athelstan inwardly breathed out a sigh of relief when Eli just fixed Athelstan's furs before leaning back to where he was sitting. Athelstan did the same. 

They sat behind the boulder for the rest of the day, Athelstan thankful that Eli kept his mouth closed and that there were no travelers that came upon them. He didn't want to think about what would happen if some poor wanderer stumbled across their little set-up. Eli would most likely kill that person, Athelstan was sure of it!

Finally the sun went down, and their horses were fed and rested so they continued on their way. Thorunn and Eli talked as they journeyed; Athelstan preferred to stay silent and ruminated over what was to come: England. 

Athelstan wondered where exactly Eli lived in England. He couldn't imagine someone like Eli living in squalor, he acted too pompous sometimes for Athelstan to see him living anywhere but a castle. But where? Somewhere near Wessex, if he was able to steal away on one of the ships on the way back to Kattegat, after the time Athelstan had spent in England among King Ecbert and his people.

_ King Ecbert! _

Athelstan had forgotten all about him. He didn't know Athelstan was supposed to be dead. What if Eli decided to torture Athelstan and make him see Ecbert? 

_ ‘Or worse, kill him,’  _ thought Athelstan.

After hours of silence on Athelstan’s part he asked, “Where exactly do you live in England, Eli.”

Eli looked back at him, “Not far from Canterbury; on the coast.”

Athelstan nodded, he was right. Eli didn't just live near the kingdom of Wessex, he lived  _ in  _ it. Athelstan had never been around Canterbury but he knew enough to know it was close to King Ecbert, in Winchester.

“And, what or who are you, to the people around you in England?” Athelstan was curious.

“ _ I _ am a lonely lord who secludes himself away in his castle. Which reminds me, who are you two going to be?” questioned Eli, pointing to Thorunn and Athelstan.

Athelstan and Thorunn looked at him confused.

“We are going to have to explain why Thorunn doesn't speak Anglo-Saxon. We can't exactly say she’s a Viking shieldmaiden, that’d only arouse suspicion and I don't want any of that. I worked hard on that castle, I don't want to be  _ run  _ out of it,” Eli said.

Eli was right, again. The whole time since Athelstan met him, Eli had been speaking in Old Norse. He spoke it to Thorunn too; it had never occurred Athelstan that, as they moved back into England, Thorunn would not be able to communicate with others there.

“I can teach Thorunn Anglo-Saxon,” offered Athelstan.

“Wonderful! Do you think you can teach Thorunn fast enough, Athelstan?”

“I can try.”

“Do better than that.”

Athelstan huffed whilst Eli smirked.

“Would it not take me long time to learn a whole new language?” questioned Thorunn.

“Not as long as it would have been, if you were still human,” answered Eli. “When you become a  _ strigi _ , learning and obtaining knowledge like a new language is quite easy.”

“Then how come you carry that scroll around?” asked Athelstan.

“That scroll was hidden away from me when I was learning magick. I stole that scroll when I left the First. Imagine my surprise when I found it contained the secrets to how to raise a  _ strigi _ , like the way you and I were raised Athelstan,” Eli said.

Athelstan looked away from Eli, awkward. 

“I did not even begin to try and learn those secrets until much, much later,” continued Eli.

Athelstan had to ask, “Just how old are you Eli? You mentioned you are from Jerusalem and you've implied you’ve lived a very long time, considering your strength.”

Athelstan and Thorunn looked to Eli, both curious to hear his answer.

“I was born around the same time as your  _ Christ _ ,” answered Eli. “Saw him crucified too.”

Athelstan couldn't believe his ears, “ _ You _ saw Christ crucified?”

Eli nodded and spurred his horse to go faster. 

Athelstan needed to hear more so he kicked his horse to catch up to him, Thorunn doing the same.

“If you lived when Christ lived, that makes you over  _ 800 years old _ !” Athelstan exclaimed.

Thorunn was shocked at this revelation. She didn't understand their talk of Christ or Jerusalem, but age she understood.

“You are like one of the Gods,” she murmured.

“He's no god,” snapped Athelstan. “He's like the Devil.”

“Now, don't let  _ him  _ hear  _ that _ ,” Eli smirked.

Athelstan only rolled his eyes in response.

They continued their journey through the forest for two more days, stopping in the daytime for the sun until Eli got impatient with them and made them ride in sun, with their furs doing their best to obscure them the sunlight. The foliage helped but sometimes it would thin and Athelstan and Thorunn would have to scramble to find a way to ride without holding the reins and burning their hands, Eli laughing at them in the distance. 

Athelstan and Thorunn grew hungrier as they journeyed, to the point where Thorunn was slumped over in her saddle with hunger pangs. Athelstan felt the same. He could feel the demon within water at the mouth with hunger. A hunger so evil, so demonic, it made Athelstan sick to imagine satiating the monster. But he must. 

Finally, through the trees, they came across another seaside village like Kattegat, just as night was falling. Thorunn sat up from her slouch and both her and Athelstan whipped off their furs, not wanting to seem odd to the villagers by wearing blankets, as some were still outside of their homes.

Eli lead them into the village without a word, but Athelstan needed answers. 

He rode beside Eli and whispered, “What's the plan?”

“The  _ plan _ , dear Athelstan, is to  _ rest  _ for the night,” Athelstan must have made a face for Eli continued, “I know that we do not require rest as often as humans do but if we are going to get a boat across the sea back to Wessex, just the three of us, we are going to need our rest.”

Athelstan didn't even know he needed rest, he thought that time spent unconscious after the feast was a fluke, nothing more. But now that Eli mentioned it, Athelstan was beginning to feel a bit  _ tired _ . Perhaps he could use a nap.

“And where are we going to do that?” Athelstan questioned.

Eli pointed ahead of him. Athelstan looked. 

It looked to be a Jarl’s house!

“No!” said Athelstan resolutely. “No. We are  _ not killing a Jarl! _ ” 

Eli gave him a sideways look before riding up ahead to the Jarl’s home, Athelstan and Thorunn hesitating before following along.

They tied their horses to a post outside of the Jarl’s house. Eli then went up to the door and pounded on it very loudly. He was likely to wake the whole house, although, Athelstan figured that was the point.

Athelstan heard a grumble inside, “No one thinks about the servants and their sleep, I tell you.”

The door to the Jarl’s house inched open to reveal a mousy face, a slave. Athelstan could see the small boy's tattered clothing and inwardly frowned. He forgot just how lucky he was to have been a slave to Ragnar, had it been anyone else he might have been this poor lad.

“ _ Sæll,  _ young one. I was wondering if I could have a word with your master,” Eli smiled, trying to be polite for Athelstan’s sake.

“My master is asleep. You can come back in morning and  _ maybe _ he’ll see you,” informed the young boy. He began to close the door but Eli quickly put his foot in front so it would not close.

“You listen to me, young one,” Eli spoke. The boy looked up into Eli’s eyes, “You are  _ going to get your master and tell him to come to the door. Tell him it's very urgent,  _ understand?”

The boy nodded dumbly and then turned to go back inside the house to get his master. The trio waited outside, huddled together, and waited for the Jarl to come to the door. After much fussing inside, and what sounded like a slap, did the Jarl come to the door.

He slammed the door wide open and regarded the trio with cold, blue eyes, “Well what is it, that I had to be roused from my bed just as I was laying down!”

“Forgive the intrusion. My friends and I have been traveling and wish for somewhere to stay for the night. We believed a just Jarl like yourself would be able to find us suitable lodgings,” said Eli.

“We have nowhere for you to stay,” grumbled the Jarl. He looked uncomfortable at the falsely-sweet praise Eli had just sung him. 

_ ‘But you have somewhere for the slaves to sleep,’  _ whispered that beast within Athelstan.

Speaking of slaves, Athelstan saw that young slave boy appear behind the Jarl, and it seemed he nursing a red cheek! 

Something boiled inside Athelstan and before Eli could get another word out, he was stepping out in front and whispered to the Jarl so the boy wouldn't hear, “ _ You will let us in to stay for the night and you will stop slapping that boy around!” _

The Jarl’s eyes glazed over and he said, “Of course. You are all welcome into my home, please come in.”

Eli glanced at Athelstan sideways in surprise, as did Thorunn, as they walked past him into the Jarl’s house. Athelstan stayed rooted to the spot. What came over him? Why did he feel the need to compel that Jarl and why did it feel so good to do so? Was Athelstan truly becoming a monster, like not-Ragnar prophesied in Athelstan's alcohol-induced fever dream. 

Athelstan had not thought about that dream for days, trying to do better and forget it. But he’d probably never forget it. The way the light went completely out of Ragnar’s eyes, as if he were dead! If Athelstan didn't know any better he’d say Ragnar was possessed. But by what? And why in a dream? 

Athelstan did not want to think on it anymore and so he  walked into the Jarl’s house. Inside, the Jarl had ordered the boy slave to fix the three of them bedrolls on the floor. He found Thorunn and Eli sitting at one of the tables in the Jarl’s house. He saw Thorunn was still hunched over, her hunger pangs getting the better of her. Athelstan’s hurt too, more than he cared to admit but he was able to endure, out of sheer force or will or something else, he knew not.

Athelstan sat down beside Thorunn, who whispered urgently as the Jarl passed them, “ _ When are we going to eat? _ ”

Eli waved a hand, “Now that you mention it--” He turned to the boy, who was still setting up their bedrolls, “Come here, boy.”

“No, Eli, no!” whisper-yelled Athelstan. He couldn't let them kill the boy. He felt an odd kinship to him, knowing full well it may as well have been him in his place.

“Relax, Athelstan,” Eli cooed as the boy walked over, “I won't let her kill him.” He took the boy’s arm in hand and looked him in the eye, “Now see here boy, some things are about to happen to you but I want you to  _ show no fear  _ and  _ forget everything that happens _ , ok?”

The boy nodded as Eli took out a dagger, the same one Athelstan saw that night he was raised! Athelstan stared as Eli took the dagger and made a cut on the boy’s wrist. The boy made a hiss but true to Eli’s compulsion, showed no fear. The blood began spill out of the boy’s cut and before Athelstan could register the sweet smell of the blood, Thorunn was up and around the table, grabbing the boy's wrist and putting her mouth on the bloody wound. She began to suck, the boy pliant beneath her, his face impassive.

“Boy! Have you finished putting our guests to bed I--” the Jarl was walking towards them but stopped when he saw what Thorunn was doing. “What is the meaning of this?!” 

Eli flashed over to the Jarl and grabbed him by the neck, “Don't worry, this will only  _ pinch _ a little!” His eyes turned black and red and his fangs appeared before he yanked the Jarl’s head back and pierced his neck with his fangs.

Athelstan could nothing to stop him and found he did not want to, not with that man who slapped his slaves around. Instead, the monster inside him roared for blood, it hadn't tasted any for days! It needed the blood. The blood is what made it strong! 

_ Powerful _ .

Athelstan could feel his eyes changing color, he could feel the fangs growing in his mouth. It was painful the first time they grew but as it went on, he found their growing to become quite painless. Oh, he was so hungry. He wanted to eat! He  _ needed  _ to eat.

Right at that moment, what Athelstan presumed was the Jarl’s wife walked into the main room, looking for her husband. She was a beautiful thing, with hair like spun gold that fell down her back in waves. She reminded Athelstan a bit of Lagertha, although she did not have Lagertha’s warrior build. She looked frail, breakable, unlike Lagertha, although Athelstan suspected that maybe now he could hold his own in fight against her, not that he ever would now. Thoughts of Lagertha exited his mind as Athelstan flashed over to the Jarl’s wife and yanked her neck to the side, before plunging his fangs into her neck and tasting her rich, sweet blood.

__  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. SIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter! And on time too;)

_'Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart.'_

_\- Fyodor Dostoyevsky_

* * *

Athelstan did not end up killing the Jarl’s wife, for Eli pulled him away before he could. Eli had stopped feeding on the Jarl, who manage to still be alive.

Athelstan fought against Eli’s pull, he wanted more! 

He  _ needed _ more! 

Eli threw him across the room, where he landed on top of Thorunn and the boy, stopping her too from killing the child. Eli quickly set to work compelling the Jarl and his household to forget everything that had just transpired. Athelstan untangled himself from Thorunn as Eli sent the others to bed.

Once the others were gone, Athelstan rushed to Eli, he wanted answers to what just happened, how was Eli able to stop himself from killing the Jarl? 

“Can I just  _ stop feeding _ before I kill someone, Eli? It must be possible, for you let the Jarl live,” Athelstan was desperate. If he didn't have to kill anybody, that'd be _ God’s Grace _ ; maybe he could live a semblance of a  _ human _ life.

Eli regarded Athelstan a moment before sitting down on his bedroll and saying, “ _ Ah,  _ but you forget, Athelstan, I am over  _ eight hundred years old _ .  _ I’ve had practice, years of it _ ! The only reason you two didn't kill the wife and that slave boy tonight is because  _ I  _ stopped you.”

Athelstan looked away, shamefaced at the harsh truth. Why did Eli have to be right all the time?

“Besides,” Eli lazed, “killing them is half the fun!”

Athelstan didn't deem that with a reply. Instead, he went and sat on his bedroll. 

A moment passed before he turned to Eli, “There’s something I've wanted to ask you Eli.”

Eli sighed. He had already laid down and shut his eyes. This journey was incredibly  _ taxing _ to him and he was anxious to get back to England, to his castle. 

“Always with the questions,” He opened his eyes and looked at Athelstan, “Well, what is it?”

“That first day I was with you, when you lit that fire without using your hands, I called it  _ witchcraft _ . Is that what it is? What else can you do?”

Thorunn looked up from her own bedroll, interested and asked, “What is...‘witchcraft’?”

Eli sat up, a devious grin on his face, “Would you like to see my powers, Thorunn?”

“ _ Powers? _ So you  _ are  _ like a  _ God? _ ” Thorunn accused.

Eli chuckled, “I assure you, I’m no God but if you keep saying that my  _ ego _ will go through the roof of this... _ house _ .” Athelstan didn’t miss the disgust that colored Eli’s voice when he spoke of the Jarl’s home. Athelstan wasn’t not surprised to see Eli eager to get out of here, out of the North. 

“Now, do you want to see my powers or not?” Eli asked again.

Thorunn nodded excitedly. Eli gestured her to him. She came and sat down next to him on his bedroll.

“Ok  _ matok _ , are you ready?” Eli questioned. He held up his palm.

Thorunn nodded once more and then Eli said, before he pressed his hand to her temple, “This won't hurt you…”

As soon as Eli touched her, Thorunn’s eyes rolled in the back of her head and she slumped backwards, on the floor, unconscious. 

“...most likely,” finished Eli. 

Athelstan jerked forward, “What did you do to her?”

Eli turned to Athelstan, “Want to find out?”

“N-” 

Athelstan could barely get the word out before Eli flashed over to him and pressed his palm to Athelstan’s temple.

Everything swam away from Athelstan as he lost consciousness. Everything was black until Athelstan decided to wake up. And there he was, laying in bed amongst the furs next to him,  _ Ragnar. _

Athelstan gave him a sweet smile, tinged with sleepiness. Ragnar returned the smile with one of his own and Athelstan’s heart melted.

“Good morning, my love. Have sweet dreams?” Ragnar leaned over and began kissing along Athelstan’s left collarbone.

Athelstan could not help but lean into those beautiful lips. His beard felt tickly yet familiar and  _ good  _ against Athelstan’s flesh and he relished in the feeling. It was a few moments until he realized he hadn't answered Ragnar’s question.

Athelstan replied, “Yes, I slept well. I had pleasant dreams of you and I, although…” he trailed off.

Ragnar stopped his kisses and looked up at Athelstan through hooded eyes, “Although….?”

Athelstan grew sad as he remembered what exactly he was dreaming, “I also dreamt of your-- _ our _ \--family, before  _ everything _ .” He was referring to their time together on the farm, before Ragnar became Jarl, and later  _ King _ . 

Ragnar sat up on his elbow and took hold of one of Athelstan’s hands. Athelstan rubbed his thumb alongside Ragnar's rough hands, familiar. He could feel the calluses of years of hard work, either in field or from battle. He loved Ragnar's hands, they spoke of the strength of his character. 

After a moment of just revelling in each other's presence, Ragnar asked quietly, “What were we doing in the dream?”

Athelstan thought back to his dream and responded, “We were sitting around the fire, you and Lagertha were taking turns telling us stories about your Gods--”

Ragnar cut him off, “Your Gods now, too.”

Athelstan smiled sadly, “Yes,” he continued with his story, “Gyda was braiding flowers into your hair as you told the story of Loki’s children.”

Ragnar’s face became pensive that spoke of a deep sadness within. Athelstan hated seeing him this way, but any mention of his beloved daughter and he turned melancholy. Athelstan didn't blame him, for he too was filled with an overbearing sadness at the thought of Gyda, the sweet child whom he loved as his own with the short time he had with her. 

Finally Ragnar spoke again, “Were we happy?”

Athelstan couldn't help the smile on his face, “Undeniably so.”

Ragnar smiled back, and Athelstan’s heart broke at the sadness he saw there.

Athelstan decided to chase the sadness away and kissed Ragnar full on the lips.

It was a chaste kiss at first but quickly evolved into something more, tongues battling for dominance. Ragnar quickly won and pushed Athelstan onto his back, never once breaking the contact of their kiss. Athelstan’s eyes slid shut in pleasure. He would have been content to just kiss Ragnar forever but the way Ragnar's hands were burning paths along Athelstan's front, he knew that they were moving into a more  _ adult _ territory.

“ _ I think I may vomit _ ,” intoned a familiar voice.

“Ah!” gasped Athelstan. He jerked his eyes open but no one was there. Athelstan must have imagined it. 

Ragnar stopped his kisses, “Are you enjoying my kisses that much or is something wrong?” Ragnar teased.

“No, my love. I just thought I heard someone,” Athelstan tried to smile reassuringly, but knew it probably came out more of a grimace instead.

Athelstan could tell Ragnar was not convinced but to his relief, decided to drop the matter and continue kissing his throat. He trailed down, down, down until his beard was scratching the inside of his thighs.

Athelstan threw his head back in anticipation.  _ This _ was getting good. He laid there, eager for Ragnar to get his mouth on him when he felt something slippery against his thigh and an odd choking noise.

Confused, Athelstan raised his head and looked down to where Ragnar was. What he saw caused cold horror to wash over him, for there was Ragnar, looking at him pain-stricken eyes and his hands clutching at his throat; it had been sliced open! The blood was flowing freely from his throat and down his front and onto Athelstan’s thighs.

Athelstan was rooted to the spot, watching as the light died out of Ragnar's eyes and he slumped forward onto Athelstan’s body, dead. 

Athelstan laid there for a moment, in shock, and covered in Ragnar's blood until he finally snapped and sat up, registering that Ragnar had just  _ died _ right in front of him. He could feel his eyes filling up with tears. 

He rolled Ragnar's body off of his and they both fell to floor. Finally the dam broke and the tears were flowing freely now. He heard a broken wailing which confused him for a moment until he realized that it was him. He leaned over Ragnar’s body, sobs wracking his body in full force now. 

“Who did this?!” He demanded through his tears.

“ _ You did _ ,” there it was, that voice that sent chills down Athelstan’s spine.

Athelstan realized to his horror that this voice was coming from Ragnar now. Ragnar's eyes flicked open and they were dead. Athelstan was sure he'd seen this before but in this moment he couldn't place it. All he knew was that he needed to get away from...not-Ragnar. Athelstan backed away slowly as not-Ragnar sat up, his slashed throat uncomfortable to look at, still seeping with blood. 

“ _ What  _ are you?” Athelstan asked as he moved away.

Ragnar regarded him with dead eyes, but didn't answer his question, “ _ You killed me, Athelstan. Consorting with Eli caused this _ .”

“I didn't have a choice!” Athelstan tried to reason.

Not-Ragnar crawled over to where Athelstan was crouched far away from him in the corner and grabbed his ankle with incredible force.

“ _ You did this. You did this _ .  _ You did this _ ,” repeated not-Ragnar over and over as he dragged Athelstan to him by his ankle. Athelstan was so frightened at not-Ragnar’s words he couldn't make his body move to get away. 

Athelstan’s felt this horrible terror grip him as he saw not-Ragnar make a move towards his throat. He yelled out, “Please, whoever you are, stop this! I. DID. NOT. KILL. RAGNAR!”

Not-Ragnar made no move to indicate he heard him and pressed his body down onto Athelstan’s, pinning him to the floor.

Frightened, Athelstan kicked out at not-Ragnar in a desperate attempt to fend him off but he was too strong. Not-Ragnar’s hands wrapped themselves around Athelstan’s throat and began to squeeze. Athelstan tried clawing at his face but not-Ragnar was undeterred, he just squeezed harder. 

“HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!” Athelstan tried to scream out but it came out weak.

He couldn't breathe anymore, which should have been the first warning sign that something was wrong, other than the obvious. He was losing consciousness, fast. 

“Ragnar, stop, please,” Athelstan choked out.

His vision was going dark but he saw enough to witness not-Ragnar's eyes suddenly go completely black with a  _ shhk  _ noise and he leaned down and whispered into Athelstan’s face, “ _ I’m not Ragnar.” _ He smiled maliciously.

Athelstan eyes widened in terror and before he ask not-Ragnar just exactly  _ who _ — _ or what _ –he was, he felt him grasp his head in a tightening lock then - 

_ SNAP! _

Gasping for air he did not need anymore, Athelstan swiftly sat up off of the floor. He took a moment to steel himself, looking around. He was back in the Jarl’s house. What had just transpired had been a dream. A dream caused by Eli. Athelstan looked to where Eli had been last and saw him sitting on his bedroll, smirking.

“ _ What was that _ ?” demanded Athelstan.

“A little trick I like to do, show you your worse fears imagined,” answered Eli. He looked over to where Thorunn laid, she was curled into her furs and shaking. “Took you long enough to wake up, Thorunn here had a bit of a come apart.”

Athelstan looked at her shivering (she shouldn't be doing that) and asked, “Why? What’d you make her see?”

Eli sighed, “I don't exactly control what you see, it's just whatever happens to be your worst fear. Hers must have been pretty bad, she woke up a crying, shaking mess. You, on the other hand, were screaming in your sleep, I had half a mind to muffle you, with the noise you were making. What did you see?”

Athelstan looked away uncomfortably, unsure of how to answer. He didn't want to tell Eli about the circumstances of his  _ dream _ or  _ hallucination _ or  _ whatever  _ that was, but he thought maybe Eli would have some answers as to who or  _ what  _ keeps making an appearance in his dreams.

“Nothing I’d like to talk about,” decided Athelstan. For the moment, he was going to keep what he saw to himself. If  _ whatever _ visits him again, then he’ll ask but for now it was best to just keep quiet. What if it was nothing other than the personification of Athelstan’s worse fears? His demons come to life in his head? Whatever it was, Athelstan did not want to worry about it now.

Eli took a long look at Athelstan as he settled himself down in bedroll. He glanced a look to Thorunn, who was still shivering with blood tears crusted down her face, “She seems out of it. It's been  _ days _ , Athelstan...want to mess around?” He wiggled his eyebrows conspiratorially at Athelstan.

Athelstan scoffed as he laid down, “ _ No _ . Not while Thorunn is present, out of it or not.”

Eli groaned and flopped down on his bedroll, “That’ll take another week, at least!”

Athelstan turned over, away from Eli, “Too bad.” And then he shut his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep for the first time since he was raised.

* * *

 

Athelstan, blessedly, did not dream. All was dark in his mind for once as he slept, no overwhelming noises that seemed to come from  _ everywhere _ , no thoughts to what Athelstan had lost ever since returning as a  _ strigi _ , but most of all, no dreams of Ragnar. Athelstan did not think he could take that again, after what had happened with Eli. 

Athelstan still did not know what to make of Eli and his  _ powers _ . Athelstan was sure he hated Eli, with what he did to him. Eli carried on as if he didn't know what Athelstan thought of him, teasing him and trying to act as if they were  _ brothers _ , although Athelstan was sure brothers did not touch each other the way Eli did when it was just the two of them. Athelstan got lucky with Thorunn, if that's what he wanted to call it, and was able to have a reprieve from Eli and his damnable touches but it wouldn't last forever. And what happened last night, whatever fever dream Eli caused in Athelstan scared him to the bone. That was the second time he had been joined by that  _ voice _ . He had a hard time believing himself when he tried to himself that it was all fake; just made up in his head. It felt all too real for that to be true but what else—or  _ who _ else—could it be?

Athelstan did not want to ask Eli, he was sure he wasn't going to get a straight answer. So he just kept what he saw to himself even when Eli bothered him and Thorunn about it the next night before they set out to steal one of the villages boats. Eli was incredulous when Athelstan and Thorunn both refused to answer what they had seen. Poor Thorunn still seemed incredibly shaken up about hers, whatever it was, and Athelstan couldn't get those coal-black, soulless eyes out of his head but he wasn't about to tell Eli that. He'd most likely derive some sort of sick pleasure at hearing Athelstan so disturbed. 

Athelstan helped Thorunn pack away their meager things, silently wondering to himself when he could next change his clothes or even take a bath. It had literally been since he'd last been alive,  _ truly alive,  _ that he'd had a nice bath and to be honest, Athelstan missed the routine of it all. He wondered if Thorunn felt the same but thought better to ask, she looked barely there as they packed, whatever it was she saw had clearly shaken her to the core. He almost asked Thorunn himself what she saw, he had a sick curiosity at what would rattle Thorunn so much. He suspected whether or not it had something to do with Bjorn or  _ Siggy _ , the daughter she left behind, but didn't ask. Instead, he stayed silent and pensive as they finished packing and watched as Eli compelled the Jarl and his household one last time before they left.

“Ok, I want you all to repeat back what I just said,” Eli was saying to the dazed Jarl.

“The ship is missing because I gave it away to a household guest and I shouldn't expect it back,” repeated the Jarl tonelessly.

“And…?” prompted Eli, raising his dark eyebrows expectantly.

“You and your friends were never here. You never existed. The bite marks are from an insane animal attack in my house. I am to kill a wolf for proof.”

“Good man!” Eli patted the Jarl on the back before ordering, “ _ Now you and your household are to go back to your rooms and don't come out until we are long gone, understood? _ ”

The Jarl nodded dumbly and he pulled along his wife and small child, who Athelstan had not seen before, away from the main room. The small slave boy also left with the older slaves until it was only Athelstan, Thorunn, and Eli in the main room. 

Eli turned back to Athelstan and Thorunn, the falsely sweet smile that had been fixed on his face while he dealt with the Jarl and the others sliding away as he addressed them, “Is everything packed?”

Athelstan and Thorunn nodded their heads. 

Athelstan couldn't help but ask, “When are we getting new clothes? I've been wearing the ones on my back now for over two weeks, and they are beginning to smell.”

Thorunn nodded her head to Athelstan’s words, “Yes. When can I take a bath?”

Eli looked at the two of them for a moment, as if he'd never thought of the fact that they might need new clothes or even a bath for that matter. Finally, he said, “We’ll get you some clothes when we arrive in England. You’ll need to fit the part.”

Athelstan cocked his head, curious, “And what part is that, exactly?”

“Well, you and Thorunn will be my guests, siblings--”

“ _ Siblings?! _ ” breathed both Thorunn and Athelstan at the same time, incredulous.

Eli sighed, he was getting impatient with having to explain himself every time he made a move with these two and said, “ _ Yes _ , siblings. It was the most believable tale to spin.”

“But we look nothing alike,” argued Athelstan.

“But the people surrounding us won't know that and if they do see you, we can easily compel them to think otherwise,” countered Eli.

Eli had a point.

“So! You’ll need clothes that befit a Lord and his sister,” continued Eli. He seemed to be thinking.

Thorunn turned to Athelstan, “What’s a “Lord”, Athelstan?”

“A Lord is kind of like a Jarl, in station at least,” explained Athelstan.

Thorunn nodded, she still didn't fully understand but she was trying, “And when will you begin to teach me your language?”

Eli clapped, startling Athelstan and Thorunn, “ _ Language! _ That's right! You agreed to teach Thorunn, did you not?”

“Yes…”Athelstan trailed off.

“Well, then, you can teach Thorunn the basics while we are out at sea. Speaking of, I believe it's time we left,” he motioned for them grab their things, he himself slinging his own satchel across his body.

Thorunn and Athelstan glanced at each other before following his lead, Athelstan once again carrying the satchel full of the furs and the looking glass. Quietly, they exited the Jarl’s house and made their descent towards the dock, where several ships sat tethered to it, just waiting to sailed West again.

Eli surveyed the several longships before deciding on the smallest one that sat in the water. He swiftly jumped from the dock into the longship, making it rock in the water, Thorunn quickly doing the same. Only Athelstan stayed rooted to the dock, watching as Eli unfurled the sail.

“Are you sure you know how to steer this thing?” Athelstan asked carefully.

Eli rolled his eyes, “I watched the men quite intently when I made my way to Kattegat, I remember it clearly in my mind. How hard can it be? Now  _ get in. _ ”

Athelstan scoffed but complied nonetheless. He jumped into the ship and sat next to Thorunn against the mast in the middle of the ship. Suddenly, everything felt all too familiar and Athelstan felt something heavy fall in the pit of his stomach. That was fear he was feeling and something else, although Athelstan could not place it. And he didn't want to. 

Eli turned to Athelstan and Thorunn, “Now both of you will help with rowing while you can, we’ll have to cover more ocean and quicker too.”

“It takes about 10 men to steer one of these and there's only the three of us. How will we cover more ocean and  _ faster _ too?” Athelstan asked, incredulous.

“You are underestimating just how strong you are now, Athelstan. Believe me, we’ll be able to do it.”

“How will you be able to tell which way we are going?” Thorunn asked. 

“With  _ magick _ , of course. How else?” Eli smirked.

Thorunn grew apprehensive, “I don't like your... _ magick _ . It does more harm than good.”

Athelstan silently agreed with her.

“Nonsense! Besides, I won't be doing the  _ magick  _ on you, so there is no need to worry. Now, both of you grab an oar, we are heading out.”

Athelstan sighed but did as he was told. Eli seemed eager to get away from the village as soon as possible and Athelstan could not help but agree. He didn't want some poor soul to happen upon them and be killed. Better to just leave as Eli said. 

He and Thorunn began to row the longship away from the dock and out into the open ocean, with Eli barking orders. Athelstan felt what was left of his heart break as they rowed away from the land he had begun to call home. Rowing away, for the first time since _everything_ , it was sinking in that he was never going to see his family again. He would most likely never see this land again, at least in his family's lifetimes. Athelstan couldn't bear the thought of returning and knowing Ragnar would not be there to greet him, with _that_ _smile_ that he seemed to reserve only for Athelstan. 

Athelstan shook his head, trying to chase away those upsetting thoughts unless he wanted to start crying, in front of Eli no less. Instead, Athelstan focused on rowing until he noticed Eli doing something peculiar. He seemed to be studying a piece of parchment that he had stashed away in his satchel. Athelstan narrowed his eyes and focused on the paper until he could get a clear view of what was on the parchment. Eli tilted his hand and Athelstan saw it: a map! This surprised Athelstan, for he thought the land from where Ragnar and his people came from was uncharted from outsiders. He wondered where Eli acquired it and why he needed it. He said he was going to use magick to navigate them to England but he saw nothing now.

That was until, once Athelstan and Thorunn had rowed them completely out to sea, then Eli pulled something else out of his satchel: a dagger. Athelstan realized with a jolt that it was the same one he saw  _ that night _ . He and Thorunn both watched curiously as they rowed while Eli performed his magick. He was muttering words under his breath, in a language Athelstan did not recognize. It must have been Eli’s original language, for he seemed fluent in it as he muttered those words over the map. Then, he took the dagger and sliced open his palm and let the blood drip into a pool on the map. Athelstan watched, fascinated, as the blood moved, as if on its own, around the map. At first it didn't make any sense to Athelstan, until he realized what Eli was doing. He was making a route back to England, to his home, using his blood as the ink. 

“How do you do  _ that _ ?” Thorunn asked, spellbound. It seemed her reservations about magick melted away as she saw what Eli was doing.

Eli looked up at her, as if he forgot she was there and said, “ _ Years _ of practice and a little  _ magick _ in me, thanks to the spell that raised me.”

“Can Athelstan do that too? Since he was raised too.”

“He can, but he might not want to,” Eli gave Athelstan a pointed look, at which Athelstan turned his head away awkwardly toward the sea and focused on rowing.

“Can  _ I _ do that?”

“No.”

Thorunn looked up, indignant, “And why  _ not _ ?”

“Because you don't have _magick_ in you,” Eli explained calmly, “You could do basic spells, sure, but anything that requires _real_ _magick,_ well…”

“That's not fair,” Thorunn was angry and her rowing sped up. Athelstan struggled to keep up with her.

“Sorry  _ matok _ , but life’s not fair. You’ll just have to deal with the other gifts I gave you,” He began listing them off on his fingers, “The strength of ten men, which will only increase as you get older, incredible speed, immortality—”

Athelstan couldn't help but cut in, “And an insatiable hunger for  _ human blood _ . Thank you, Eli, truly.”

Eli groaned loudly in the wind that whipped around their faces and made a face at Athelstan, “We are not having this discussion again. Stop acting like a petulant child, Athelstan! Things don't always go as you planned in life, you just have deal and adjust accordingly.”

Athelstan ignored him and continued to row. What right did Eli have to lecture him on life?  _ He  _ gave him  _ this _ wretch of a half-life and acts as if it was the best thing to happen to him. Athelstan had an inkling as to what the best thing to ever happen to him was and Eli’s “ _ gift _ ” wasn't it. Ocean blue eyes flashed through his mind; Athelstan picked up the pace with his rowing and soon, with the compiled efforts of him and Thorunn, they were slicing through the water.

Eli grasped the dragon’s head at the front of the ship and hooted, “I told you two this would work!”

“Where are we going, again?” shouted Thorunn over the sound of the waves crashing against the hull of the ship.

“I told you: England!” Eli shouted back, not leaving his place in the front of the ship.

“I know but where?” Thorunn asked.

Eli turned from the front of the ship, facing Thorunn, “Were you  _ not _ listening when I explained that to Athelstan?”

Thorunn looked away, uncomfortable. She slowly admitted, “I heard the words but...I didn't understand them. What is…” she struggled to sound the word in Anglo-Saxon, “Canterbury?”

Athelstan was surprised to see Eli’s features soften at Thorunn’s admission and he said, “It’s a place. It's near where I live, in a castle.”

“What's a...‘castle’?”

“Oh, you'll know it when you see it.”

Thorunn didn’t seem satisfied with his answer but just continued rowing.

Eli looked to Athelstan, “Since we are going to spend some time together in this boat, I think it would  _ behoove _ you, Athelstan, to begin teaching Thorunn your language. You don't want her to be an outsider, now do you?” Eli cocked his head to the side and Thorunn looked at Athelstan, expectant.

“Of course I’ll help you, Thorunn,” Athelstan reassured her. And he did.

They spent their time in the ship, alternating between rowing and hiding under the furs when the sun came out, Athelstan teaching Thorunn the basics of his language, whenever Eli wasn't shouting directions at them. Athelstan liked to think he and Thorunn formed a connection— _ friendship _ —as he taught her. 

He saw the look in her eyes when she asked him what the word for “mother” was and his heart went out to her. It was easy to forget that she was in this mess too, not just Athelstan. She had a life, a loving husband, a newborn child. She was the same as Athelstan, caught up in a whirlwind because of someone else’s actions.

As she glanced at him with her sorrowful eyes, Athelstan made a promise to himself to be there for her, to guide her when Eli eventually led her astray. And he would lead her astray, he would lead them both down the path of doom; Athelstan was sure of that. 

__  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment or what-have-yous, they really make my day:)


	7. SEVEN

_'Pain and pleasure, like light and darkness, succeed each other.'_

_\- Laurence Sterne_

* * *

After three days of rowing and teaching Thorunn the language of Athelstan’s homeland, Eli announced that they were quick in approaching the shore.

“ _ Finally! _ ” Thorunn exclaimed. “I'm  _ starving _ !”

Eli laughed, “Now  _ that's  _ the  _ spirit _ !” He leaned against dragon head, glancing at the their surroundings.

It was still mostly water as far as Athelstan could see but every once in awhile they’d come across land to the right of Athelstan as they sailed southward. Luckily, they remained unspotted by the people living near the coast, for a fine mist seemed to appear every time land came into view. When Athelstan remarked this event to Thorunn, Eli couldn't keep the smirk off his face.

“ _ What? _ ” Athelstan finally questioned, when Eli’s smug smirk wouldn't fade.

“It  _ is  _ quite... _ convenient, _ the mist I mean,” Eli’s smirk was spreading into a full smug grin.

_ Oh _ .

Athelstan understood.

“The mist is your doing, is it not?” Athelstan could not believe this. Eli was able to control nature too?! 

Eli bowed his head, falsely modest, “Yes. I just give a little  _ whisper _ to the clouds and they come, with their helpful little  _ mist _ .”

“Who taught you these things?” Athelstan wanted to know.

“The First,” replied Eli, nonchalantly. He was beginning to become quite used to Athelstan’s  _ insatiable _ curiosity. 

“Who’s ‘The First’?” Thorunn questioned. She hated it when Eli and Athelstan would start talking about things she didn't understand; she always felt left out. Thorunn tried to be an eager student when Athelstan started to teach her his language and she thought she was retaining the slew of information quite well, but then Eli had to mention something—or  _ someone _ —that Thorunn didn't know and she felt like a fool for asking!

“The First is what Eli calls the First  _ Strigi _ . He's the first one like us,” Athelstan explained.

“Is He...like a  _ God _ ?”

Eli snorted, “ _ He  _ seems to think so.”

“ _ No, _ ” Athelstan answered.  _ Pause _ . “I don't know exactly  _ what _ the First is... _ Eli _ doesn't tell me much.”

“I resent that. I've told you quite a bit actually, you’re just  _ insatiable _ . I  _ like  _ that in a man,” Eli waggled his dark brows at Athelstan, who only glared in response.

They were close now. Athelstan could feel the excitement and anticipation rolling off of Eli in waves as they caught a glimpse of land for the last time. Through the mist, Athelstan saw it. What Eli had been talking about.

_ Eli’s castle.  _

It must have been, for the way Eli hooted at the sight of it. 

Thorunn stared in awe at the towering stone architecture, that climbed out of the cliffs on the coast. 

“ _ This  _ is yours?” breathed Athelstan out of shock.

“ _ Surprised _ Athelstan?” gloated Eli. “It's lovely, isn't it?”

Athelstan didn't answer. He was too busy admiring the beautiful architecture that went into building that towering castle. It looked fairly new, or at least kept in good condition. From where they were floating out at sea, Athelstan could spot several candles lit in the various windows of the large stone castle. So someone kept house for Eli, then. Athelstan wasn't surprised, like he'd expect him to do it himself, Athelstan snorted a little.

“What was that, Athelstan?” Eli glared at him suspiciously.

Athelstan collected himself with a cough, “ _ Nothing.  _ Just wondering who keeps your castle in such nice repair, with the candles lighting the windows and such.”

Eli shot a look at the castle’s windows as they moved closer inland, “Ah, yes that would be Almund, my head of staff. He keeps everything nice and orderly for me, so I'll be right at home when I return. It's been  _ years _ …” He looked out at the towers with an odd sort of longing on his face.

Athelstan looked away from that expression he knew all too well. He feared he had that same look on his face too, whenever he got to thinking about Ragnar, which happened more often than not. Why couldn't he get out of Athelstan’s head? He was always there, in Athelstan’s periphery, waiting for Athelstan to remember the sound of his voice or the color of his eyes. Athelstan didn't even want to think about that  _ magick- _ induced dream, what he and Ragnar had been doing—

It was too much.

Finally, the ship sailed right onto sand of the craggy beach below the coastline and Eli, Athelstan, and Thorunn were able to jump out, carrying their possessions with them.

They walked up through the sand and made their way up hills to the castle. It was dark outside, night had fallen maybe two hours before they landed. It didn't matter that it was dark, they could all see clearly in the dark, every detail catalogued in their vision. They made their way around the castle, to the entrance. The castle was quite impressive, with a large building that sat in the center of the main courtyard, surrounded by smaller towers that connected to one another. There were several other buildings interspersed among the castle. Athelstan could not help but be impressed by the architecture. He was sure some of it was inspired by Eli’s homeland, in Jerusalem. But he couldn't be sure. He'd never had the chance to study their architecture.

They made their way to the entrance, which was a little road that led far away into the distance and into the forest, towards Canterbury, and ended in front of a large, wooden gate that led inside the sprawling scape of the castle. The gate seemed to guarded, Athelstan realized with a start, but Eli payed them no mind as he waltzed up to the gate.

The two guardsmen stood to attention once they heard Eli but they visibly relaxed when they saw his face in the torchlight from the walls of the gate. They seemed to recognize him. As he moved closer, Athelstan could see the marble-like texture of their skin; they were  _ strigi _ . 

Without a word, they pulled the lever which unlocked the heavy lock on the door, which gave way with a huge  _ THUNK!  _

_ “I hereby invite the both of you into my home, _ ” Eli said, faking solemnity. He was silent for a moment then cracked a grin at the both of them. “The castle was built as mine, so I have the power to grant access to other  _ strigi _ .”

“Who invited  _ you _ in?” Athelstan asked, trying to understand the supernatural  _ rules _ that dictated the life of a  _ strigi _ .

“ _ That's  _ where the loophole lies; if you built a home from nothing and it’s deed lies with you,  _ you don't have to be invited in _ . It's yours. But it's rare for  _ strigi  _ to stay in one place for too long so we rarely bother to build a home. This place was secluded enough, though, and I wanted a  _ permanent  _ residence for a while.”

Eli waved Athelstan and Thorunn through the gate, the latter of which had a starstruck look in her eye amongst the architecture; she had never seen a home so  _ large  _ and  _ sprawling. _

Through the gate they went and inside the yard, Athelstan was astounded by what he saw there in the bailey. A beautiful garden, that seemed to be in good condition, with lush fruit trees and bushes, a sectioned off area that looked like some sort of training yard, there was a blacksmith who seemed to be sharpening a gleaming sword with a sort of demon-head pommel, and an area where the animals were kept including several horses and a few chickens. He was also surprised to note that there was a small chapel, nestled amongst the buildings.

“What are the chickens for?” Athelstan asked as he followed Eli through the courtyard and into the main building, which had a tower connected to each corner. 

“Well, I have to keep up certain appearances if I have to  _ entertain _ a guest but that doesn't happen often. They’re also good for sacrifices,” answered Eli as they entered the building. 

Inside, it was warm. Athelstan could smell several hearths burning inside the castle walls. It was a nice change to the fog that permeated the air outside, although the frigid air did not affect Athelstan. 

They heard steps echoing off the stone walls as someone descended down the great stone staircase in the middle of the room. It was a man, Athelstan could see. A very small, very balding man in robes. Athelstan smiled quietly to himself; the man reminded him of many monks he'd seen, so long ago, at the monastery. He was also, like the rest of the servants,  _ human _ .

Eli regarded the man with a large smile, “Almund! I see you got my letter.”

“ _ Letter? _ ” voiced Athelstan. Since when was he able to communicate with this Almund?

Eli gave Athelstan a look, “Yes, I burned him a letter the night before we set sail.” He turned to Almund, “Everything  _ is  _ ready, correct?”

The small man, finally being able to speak, said, “ _ Aye, sire _ . Everything is being handled and I believe I can have the help prepare you and your friends a  _ meal _ , I'm sure you must be hungry after such a long and arduous journey.”

“That'd be delightful, Almund.”

Almund nodded and indicated with his arm that Eli, Athelstan, and Thorunn follow him back up the stairs. They went up the stairs and around a few corners until Almund led them into a small sitting room, where they could gather and “eat” on the smaller scale, if they ate like normal humans. Athelstan wondered whether or not that “meal” would be  _ real food _ or something more… _.sinister. _ Surely Almund had to have known about Eli...

Athelstan sat in one of the chairs offered in the sitting room, across from Thorunn and Eli. Thorunn could not get the starstruck look out of her eyes until suddenly—she frowned as Almund took his leave to go fetch their  _ meal _ .

“Eli?” She asked.

“Yes,  _ matok _ ?”

“If Athelstan is supposed to be a... _ Lord _ and I'm supposed to be his  _ sister _ , do I have to... _ behave... _ a certain way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will people, if they visit, expect me to act a certain way, like the way other...highborn women do.”

“I think she's asking whether or not she should ‘act like a lady’,” Athelstan interjected.

Eli nodded, understanding now. He turned to Thorunn, “You’ll need to dress a certain way, yes, to fit in amongst the other  _ ladies  _ here in England and...you’ll have to follow some rules of...being a lady…”

Thorunn arched her brows, “Such as?”

Eli looked around, not really on expert on the subject, he never really paid much attention to the other ladies of England but he knew they'd be much different than what Thorunn (ex-shieldmaiden and ex-slave) was used to. There were probably more people watching over Thorunn’s every move  _ now _ , than she'd ever had in her entire life. 

“Well, now you’ll be attended to by servants, at your every waking hour, assisting you with everything from dressing to bathing, you can even take a bite if you want but don't kill,  _ never kill the servants _ , that goes for both of you, alright?” 

Athelstan and Thorunn both nodded.

“You’ll need to learn activities that befit a Lady, such as…”

“Weaving?” Athelstan helped.

“ _ Weaving _ ! Learning the dances of the people here, helping with the finances if I or Athelstan is away…”

Thorunn made a face, “I am...not good at... _ numbers _ .” She tried to say it in Anglo Saxon and fumbled over her words. 

“Almund can help you! He's been running my castle for many years now, always keeping it in good condition. He knows his way around the finances. You’ll have many duties to perform as  _ de facto _ Lady of this castle.”

“Are the servants under your compulsion?” Athelstan asked. 

“Of course,” Eli replied. “All of them are, so don't worry about them  _ screaming  _ if you get too hungry…But remember, don't—”

“Kill them,” finished Thorunn and Athelstan in unison.

Eli nodded, satisfied.

At that moment, Almund entered the sitting room once more, with three guardsmen, who, like the ones at the gate, were  _ strigi  _ and they were pulling three people— _ commoners _ —it looked like to Athelstan. He was horrified to see them in chains. By the looks of them, they'd been captured and held here for at least a few days.

“You  _ kidnapped  _ them _?! _ ” Athelstan was outraged.

“What’d you expect us to do tonight? Town is too far away and I wouldn't want to let you two loose while you’re  _ hungry _ , that could be  _ disastrous _ ,” Eli explained. He motioned to the guardsmen and they each pulled a commoner to Eli, Thorunn, and Athelstan. “Besides...didn't Ragnar  _ kidnap _ you, once?”

Athelstan held back a growl; that was completely beside the point! The commoner, a man of average size, was pulled in front of Athelstan. Athelstan could not look the man in the face, he felt too ashamed of what he was doing, but the monster within didn't care. The commoner whimpered when Athelstan was pulled to the weak pulse point in the the man’s neck by the monster. The monster was growling in anticipation; it had been days since Athelstan was last affected by the monster and he found it was impossible to stop it from releasing it’s chains at the sight of  _ food.  _ He paid no mind to Thorunn and Eli, the former of which was devouring her... _ meal _ with a hungered frenzy while Eli took his time, sweet talking his victim and slowly pulling them in to feel _ death _ . Athelstan rubbed his nose against the pulse point and man whimpered again. 

“ _ Shh. Don't talk,  _ it's harder that way,” that was the monster talking. The man only whimpered louder in response.

A surge of white hot anger went through Athelstan, the monster was infuriated! How dare that  _ mortal _ disobey  _ him _ ! Athelstan was tired of people not  _ listening  _ to him. In a movement quicker than what the man’s eyes could see, Athelstan snatched his face in a bruising grip. He stared into the scared man’s brown eyes, seeing his own hateful reflection in them. He didn't recognize himself. He looked... _ inhuman _ . 

Monstrous _. _

Athelstan looked away and focused on the pulse point again. The blood was calling out to him, edging him closer and closer still until he, ignoring the man's cries, bit down.

Oh it had been days! Athelstan felt wretched at the relief that flooded him as the blood surged through his mouth. But he could not stop. And this time, Eli did not stop him from killing.

He was the last to finish his... _ meal _ , though he hated to think of that poor man like that, lying dead on the floor with glassy eyes. Athelstan laid his head in his hands upon the table as the guardsmen dragged the bodies away. Thorunn didn't seem bothered by what had transpired, she had gotten up from her sitting position and was admiring a tapestry hanging against one of the walls.

Eli, wiping the remnants of his dinner off the corner of his mouth, waved to Almund who had been standing in corner, watching them feed with a detached expression on his face, and said, “Almund, why don't you show Thorunn around the castle and to her rooms, I have some  _ things _ I need to... _ discuss _ with Athelstan.” He wasn't being subtle at all, Athelstan noted with growing dismay.

Thorunn whipped her head around to Athelstan, catching a bit of what Eli said

to Almund in Anglo-Saxon, even after only a few days of learning. She was catching on to Eli’s insinuations. She wasn't an idiot, Athelstan remembered her bluntly asking them before if they had slept together. Athelstan had said no, but he knew she wasn't fooled. He was surprised she was so nonchalant about two men being together, even amongst the Vikings it was unheard of.

Almund nodded at his master and motioned to Thorunn. He pulled her out the room but she remained staring at Athelstan, even giving him a little wink before she was ushered out the door. The door shut with a small thud and then Athelstan and Eli were left alone together for the first time in over a week.

Athelstan stayed rooted to his chair. He gripped the armchair as Eli rounded on him the second the door closed shut.

“ _ Finally _ , we're alone…” Eli walked over to where Athelstan was sitting and placed his hands overtop Athelstan’s hands that were still gripping the arms. He leaned his head down to Athelstan's and whispered, “Now, what am I to do with you…”

Abruptly Athelstan stood up, surprising Eli and knocking him backwards. 

“You can tell me when you are going to do that  _ spell _ that you mentioned, to allow Thorunn and I to walk in the sun again,” Athelstan said.

Eli sighed, “ _ Tomorrow _ , first thing. But now…” He walked back to Athelstan and took hold of one of his hands, bringing it to his mouth, “I want to do  _ something else _ .”

Athelstan shivered as Eli’s lips touched the back of his hand; they were cold but burned to the touch. Athelstan found that  _ fascinating _ .

The monster purred at Eli’s lips and urged Athelstan to touch back. 

But he couldn't. 

He couldn't exactly turn Eli away either, so he sat there and allowed Eli to touch his hips and guide him upward, so that he was standing in front of him. 

Eli smiled, “It feels better when you respond, Athelstan. Just  _ give in _ to that  _ dark voice  _ inside you.”

“I can't,” whispered Athelstan brokenly. He was breathlessly afraid and his eyes were full of tears. 

_ Blood _ tears.

“What are you afraid of?” Eli searched Athelstan's eyes then he nodded, understanding now. “You don't want to  _ betray  _ him— _ Ragnar _ .”

Athelstan jerked back as if Eli had slapped him, “What? Why would I be afraid of betraying Ragnar? There was  _ nothing _ going on between us!” Athelstan argued vehemently, trying desperately not to think about that magick-induced dream and the way Ragnar's lips felt against his flesh. The tears ran down his face in a hot rush. He made no move to wipe them away.

Eli snaked a hand down Athelstan’s neck, “ _ Prove it _ .”

Athelstan hesitated at Eli’s words. What good would it do to not give in. Athelstan was a world away from Ragnar—again—and he felt as if the time had passed for him to see Ragnar again, at least  _ alive _ . What was holding Athelstan back from giving in to the monster, his  _ religion _ ? Athelstan found that these days he didn't know what to believe in. He doesn't remember much from the time he was dead in the ground but he remembered being  _ peaceful _ . 

After living a few days as a  _ strigi _ , Athelstan began to wonder if that  _ heaven  _ he went to was only a fluke and God ripped him away to suffer eternal punishment as one of Eli’s creations. 

Eli’s hands traveled from Athelstan’s neck into his hair, curling the ends, “Come, Athelstan.  _ Give in _ . It's much more  _ fun  _ that way!”

Athelstan, once more, resigned himself to his fate and muttered, “I made a vow…”

“ _ Aye,  _ Athelstan, you did.”

And with those words, Eli placed his other hand on the side of Athelstan's face and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Teeth clashed as Eli scrambled to fight his tongue into Athelstan's mouth, Athelstan only giving little resistance when the demon’s influence made him weak in the knees. 

Eli pushed Athelstan against the table, the backs of his knees backing into it and slowly pushed him on top. 

Athelstan placed his hands on Eli’s chest, pushing, “We’re going to do this  _ here _ ?”

“Why not? I'll be as gentle as I can.”

That didn't sound so reassuring to Athelstan.

Eli ignored the troubled look on Athelstan's face and began pulling at his tunic, motioning for him to take it off. Reluctantly, Athelstan raised his arms and allowed the dark grey tunic to be pulled over his head. Eli quickly bent his head and started placing kisses and nips along Athelstan’s collarbone. With a jolt, Athelstan was remembering the way Ragnar did that, in his dream. He placed his hands in Eli’s head, under the pretense that he was playing along and pushed him away from his collarbone. The less memories of that, the better, for Athelstan's own sanity and survival.

Eli kissed along Athelstan's pecs, licking and kissing a nipple before twisting the other. He got a harsh smile on his face when Athelstan cried out in response. He gave little nips along his abs until he arrived at the border between Athelstan and his trousers. 

Eli paused, thinking, “You haven't returned the favor, Athelstan. I believe tonight is the perfect night to correct that.”

Whatever was left of Athelstan’s blood ran cold. He knew what Eli was talking about. He'd figured it'd only been a matter of time before Eli got tired of doing all the work when they... _ slept together _ .

Eli sat up from his position near Athelstan’s crotch and removed his tunic, “Ah, to be rid of that Viking  _ stench _ .”

Athelstan grit his teeth and glared at Eli. He was not willing to participate, especially when Eli was saying falsehoods against Ragnar and his people. They actually bathed quite regularly; at least far more common than what Athelstan knew of most English nobles. 

Eli looked at Athelstan, expectant and confused as to why he hadn't responded, “Athelstan? Remember what you said...you made a  _ vow _ .”

_ Damn him. _

_ ‘This will all go faster if you just give. him. what. he. wants,’ _ whispered a dark voice in Athelstan’s head.

Athelstan couldn't help but agree. There was no escaping Eli, not now. He couldn't abandon Thorunn even if he was able to get away from Eli. But he was too strong. Too fast. Too  _ magickal _ .

Athelstan smiled falsely sweet to Eli, “Of course.”

Eli cocked his head, unsure of this new seemingly acquiescence, “You won't turn away again?”

Athelstan shook his head, “No. Not  _ tonight _ .”

Eli laughed, “I knew I could count on you to keep it lively, Athelstan! You are always conjuring up some sort of trouble, if the stories that Ragnar told me are anything to go by!”

Athelstan ducked his head and pecked Eli lightly on the lips, “Let us not talk of Ragnar.”

Eli smiled deviously wide again and looped his arms around Athelstan's back, pulling him in close, “I can do that.”

Eli sealed their union with a kiss once more, softer now. He gently opened Athelstan’s mouth with his, wanting to take his time now that he was assured Athelstan would not turn him away again. Athelstan closed his eyes and begged silently to himself that he block out what was happening. He begged that  _ someone _ grant him the  _ grace _ to put his mind elsewhere while these actions transpired. And soon, through  _ God’s grace _ or maybe the demon within taking over, his own consciousness left him and all that remained were the demon’s actions. 

He began kissing Eli back, rough and grabbing at the sides of Eli’s head. 

Eli smirked into the kiss and urged him on, whispering whenever they pulled away, “ _ Yes, yes, yes! _ ” 

Athelstan attacked Eli’s neck with kisses, and once the demon was feeling bolder, he bit down on Eli’s throat. 

Eli let out a surprised grunt, “Ah!  _ That  _ is  _ new _ …”

Athelstan felt whatever blood that flows through Eli’s veins begin to pool in his mouth. He'd never tasted  _ strigi _ blood before...it was  _ intoxicating _ . Just a few mouthfuls and Athelstan was pulling away, dizzy with a newfound buzzing coursing through his veins.

“Good, _ huh _ ?” Eli teased. “ _ Strigi  _ blood is very good, makes you feel as though you could swim a thousand leagues with all the energy it gives you but I'll tell you,  _ this is nothing  _ compared to pure demon blood.”

Athelstan, in some locked away room deep in his conscious, took hold of that note about demon’s blood and stored it away until the time was right to ask Eli about it. The monster within had no patience to ask questions now, he wanted  _ pleasure _ ! 

With a flash, Athelstan, or more accurately the monster, flipped Eli over so that their positions were reversed. 

Eli let out a happy sound, “ _ Wow _ , you are really getting into this.”

Athelstan did not answer and burned a trail of kisses down to Eli’s dark brown trousers. He quickly unlaced them and pulled them down around Eli’s ankles. The monster took a moment to sit back and admire Eli’s manhood. Even Athelstan had to admit, it  _ was _ impressive—and Eli wanted him to put his mouth on it...Athelstan would have shied away from such  _ intimate  _ contact with Eli but the monster was literally salivating at the mouth for a chance to get its mouth on him. 

Without warning, the monster crouched Athelstan’s body down, so that he was eye level with Eli’s cock before taking the head in his mouth.

Eli let out a startled cry; it had been awhile since someone last did this for him and he was a little sensitive. He was a little confused to say the least, at the sudden ferocity at which Athelstan attacked him with licks to his cock. Eli realized with a start that he hadn't seen Athelstan’s eyes since they started this, his head was always bowed or his eyes were closed. Not wanting Athelstan to stop his ministrations but curious as to what state Athelstan was in, Eli reached down with his hands and began petting Athelstan’s face.

“You’re really good at this— _ ah _ —Athelstan,  _ let me see your eyes _ ,” Eli breathed. 

Maybe it was his tone of voice or the heat of the moment but Athelstan slowly complied, with Eli’s cock still in his mouth. 

It was just as Eli suspected, Athelstan had let the monster take over, for instead of those bright blue eyes that reminded Eli of the beautiful sky, there was black surrounding the red iris. To say Eli was a little disappointed that Athelstan had to allow the monster to take over in order to  _ participate _ in Eli’s... _ games _ ...was an understatement, but he wasn't about to stop Athelstan now. Not when everything was going so well.

The monster let Athelstan’s eyes slid closed again and began sucking on Eli’s cock in earnest, trying to replicate what Eli had done to him that first time. He must have been doing well, if the sounds Eli was making was any indication. Athelstan’s fingers began digging into Eli’s hips, a dark part of him wanting to cause Eli pain if he pushed just a  _ little  _ harder. Eli placed his hands overtop Athelstan’s, which caused him to stop.

“Why’d you stop? That felt  _ good _ !”

Trust Eli to find pleasure in pain. The monster smiled maliciously and pressed Athelstan’s fingers harder into Eli’s hip bones.

“ _ That's it _ !”

Athelstan kept his mouth on Eli as pressed into his hips, sucking him farther and farther down until he was gagging on it.

“ _ Ah!  _ Athelstan!” Eli threw his head back again in pleasure, his eyes squeezing shut. When he opened them again, the monster within Athelstan cheered to see them as dark and red as his were. Eli had allowed his monster to take over too. With supernatural force, Eli cupped Athelstan’s jaw and pulled him up from his cock.

“I think I'm going to  _ fuck _ you now, ok Athelstan?” Eli whispered over Athelstan’s spit-shiny lips.

The monster within roared with pleasure and forced Athelstan’s body to respond with an eager smile. Inside, the real Athelstan was watching what his body was doing with detached horror. He didn't intervene, fearing Eli’s wrath if he stopped him this far into the... _ game _ . Eli quickly rid Athelstan of his trousers. They were both naked now, in the candlelight room.

Eli broke away from Athelstan for a second before rooting around in that satchel he had carried with him everywhere on their journey. After a moment, he made a noise of excitement, and pulled out that jar of oil that he  _ borrowed _ (stole) from that first couple’s hut. He dipped a finger inside and beckoned Athelstan to him. He jumped up on the table behind him and laid down, pulling Athelstan on top of him. He placed the jar beside them on the table for easy access.

He snaked his oil-slick finger near Athelstan’s opening and whispered, “You want this?”

The monster nodded eagerly and urged Eli to get on with it. Eli, eyes so dark from his own monster within, chuckled and slowly pushed his finger inside. He allowed Athelstan to get used to the intrusion, it had been over a week since they had last done this, before removing his finger and pushing back in again, setting up a slow rhythm. 

The monster pushed back into Eli’s finger, and ground his cock against Eli’s, moaning.

“You want  _ more _ ?”

The monster moaned in response and rolled his hips against Eli’s. Athelstan was embarrassed by how good he could tell it felt, even when he was detached from himself. 

Eli took his hand away to coat another finger with oil before sneaking them back to Athelstan’s hole. He pushed two fingers in and the monster moaned, loudly. Athelstan wished he’d keep it down, he didn't want any awkward meetings with Thorunn. Eli twisted his fingers and smiled breathlessly at the moans it elicited from Athelstan. He scissored them, opening him up for Eli but he didn't want him  _ too  _ prepped. He had a feeling the monster within would appreciate the burn. Soon, he pulled his fingers out and led Athelstan to sit on his dick. Slowly, Athelstan began to slide down, taking Eli’s cock inch by inch. He braced himself on either side of Eli’s head, which was lying upon the table. 

The monster gave Athelstan a moment to adjust before he began riding up and down on Eli’s cock, enjoying the sensation of being filled. Eli placed his hands on Athelstan’s hips and started to guide his hips into Athelstan’s, pumping relentlessly into him. Inside, Athelstan was having a crisis; he was hating that he was doing these actions with Eli but loving the pleasure it allowed him through the monster. It seemed as though he'd never be balanced again, always at the edge of some precipice, waiting to jump off.

Needing to find some relief, Athelstan's hand began stroking his cock, desperate as he bounced.

Eli, noticing, slapped his hand away and said, “You come on my cock or you don't come at all, understood?”

The monster growled but relented. Even  _ it _ knew it was no match for Eli and even silently respected him. Athelstan didn't feel the same. 

Eli sped up pistoning his hips until the monster was practically screaming in pleasure. He was hitting that spot deep within Athelstan, over and over, getting him closer to edge. Eli must have been close too for his hips began to move at an almost inhuman pace and lost all sense of rhythm but the monster didn't care. It was  _ so close _ . Just a few more well placed thrusts and Athelstan was coming, over his and Eli’s chests.

Eli gave two more hard thrusts until he too was falling over the edge and emptying himself into Athelstan with a cry. 

Coming down from his pleasure, Athelstan’s eyes resumed their bright blue hue as he returned to a conscious state of mind. He was  _ horrified _ by what he'd allowed to happen. He quickly slipped off Eli, ignoring the burn of him pulling out too soon. He began scrambling for his clothes, not looking Eli in the eye. He scrubbed at his face, wiping off the crusty remains of the tears he'd shed earlier, over Ragnar.

Eli continued to lie on the table, bare for all the world to see. He slowly sat up when he realized what Athelstan was doing, “Going to shut me out again?”

Athelstan didn't reply and shakily pulled on his trousers.

Eli sighed at Athelstan’s non-answer and began moving to find his own clothes.

“Tomorrow morning I’ll find the jewelry you are to wear for the sunlight spell,” Eli said as he slipped into his tunic and trousers.

That got Athelstan’s attention, “We have to wear jewelry, why?”

“ _ Because, _ the spell is supposed to be bound with a piece of jewelry. As long as you wear it, you’ll be able to walk freely in the sun again,” Eli explained, happy that Athelstan was talking to him again.

That did sound nice, it had been too long since Athelstan basked in the sun. He wondered if he'd be able to feel the sun’s warmth upon his skin or if that sensation was gone. 

“But  _ now _ ,” Eli breathed, walking up to Athelstan and taking his hand again, “I want to show you  _ around _ .”

He did. He walked Athelstan all throughout the castle, amongst the various spaces used for different things. They even passed through Thorunn’s room, who it seemed passed out after everything that had transpired over the last few days. The last room Eli led them to, was his own. It was spacious, with a large canopy bed and nice windows. There was even a nook, built inside one of the windows were Athelstan went to sit, gazing out onto the yard. Eli went and lounged on the bed, content with the day’s events.

After a while Eli spoke up, “I think, you and Thorunn will find that you’ll both turn out to enjoy this life.”

Inwardly Athelstan scoffed.

_ Not likely. _

“I think this place will become  _ home _ to you.” 

__  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. EIGHT

_ 'A mask of gold hides all deformities.' _

_ \- Thomas Dekker _

* * *

 

Athelstan could barely look Thorunn in the eye the next they saw each other, in Eli’s solar where he prepared the spell to allow them to walk again in sunlight. She gave him eyes the minute she walked into the solar to meet Athelstan and Eli, indicating that she knew what went on between Athelstan and Eli the night before. He thought she'd been asleep but obviously she wasn't, at least not until she heard enough to confirm her suspicions. Athelstan had an inkling that Almund knew as well, though he stayed mum.

 

Thorunn was in Anglo-Saxon garb, dressed like a proper lady. She looked very beautiful, her face clear, her red dress complimenting her blonde hair that was pulled back in a braid at the top. 

 

Athelstan didn't exactly feel comfortable in his new nobleman’s garb. He was used to monk’s robes and slightly scratching wool, not this  _ refinery _ . Eli, however, looked very much in his element in his Lord’s clothing. 

 

Thorunn didn't badger Athelstan for long about her suspicions of him and Eli, for a strange look crept upon her face at the thought of love and sex, although she didn't believe it was  _ love  _ between Eli and Athelstan, and she quickly grew pensive. Athelstan wondered if her dreams still haunted her from when Eli performed that  _ spell _ —or was it something else? The last time she'd been in England, she had been scarred beyond belief and her pride in herself was shattered. Athelstan could only imagine how Thorunn felt, to leave a child behind while still being in the world. Athelstan could only give Thorunn a sympathetic smile which she slowly returned.

 

Eli placed down two rings onto the table between them in front of large window in the solar. The window was closed with heavy drapes, for it was morning and they could not let the sun in—not  _ yet _ anyways.

 

The rings looked simple in design, gold bands with some red embellishments; Athelstan wondered how Eli acquired them. Did he have them made? Or did he  _ steal  _ them off some dead nobles bodies? Athelstan figured it was the latter.

 

“So...what are you going to do?” Thorunn asked, breaking her pensive silence. There seemed to have lit a spark of curiosity in her eye as she stared at Eli and the rings.

 

Eli didn't respond to her question. Instead, he held his palms over the rings and muttered an ancient language under his breath. He waited a moment before dropping his hands and saying, “That should do it!”

 

Athelstan and Thorunn looked at each other, incredulous. 

 

“ _ That's  _ it?” Thorunn asked.

 

“What else would there be?” Eli asked as he handed them a ring each.

 

Slowly, Thorunn and Athelstan both slipped on their new rings. They both stared at them for a moment before Thorunn spoke up, “How will we know that they work?”

 

Eli grinned mischievously, “Only one way to find out.” In a flash, he had torn away the drapes from the window allowing the sun from a rare sunny day to shine through.

 

Instinctively, Athelstan and Thorunn both threw their hands up in an attempt to protect themselves, both remembering with clarity the journey on horseback to that seaside village and the way Eli made them ride in the sun with only furs to protect from the burns. But the sun did not burn them this time.

 

It seemed that Eli’s spell worked! Although Athelstan knew he shouldn't be surprised; Eli had performed a series of incredible spells since Athelstan had been in his company. 

 

Slowly, Athelstan and Thorunn lowered their arms, both in awe at the sight of the sun again. It had only been a couple of weeks but to them it felt a lifetime since true sunlight fell upon their faces. Athelstan was a little disappointed, however, when he found he could not feel the warmth of the sun upon his skin. His body was truly dead, yet he still felt pain. The wonders of his new body never ceased to amaze him.

* * *

 

Months went by, the days being spent with Eli attending to castle business and then sometimes disappearing off into the woods at night with a few of his guardsmen. A couple of the guardsmen would be riding on carriages that carried large cages; Athelstan didn't think about what was carried back in them. That was buried deep inside his mind, better to be forgotten.

 

This allowed for Athelstan to have time himself, without Eli hovering over his shoulder, where he could just roam about the castle; sometimes, he'd go and visit Thorunn but that time was quickly limited. 

 

Eli had arranged for Almund to teach Thorunn about how to present herself as a lady to the public. She was soon under vigorous hours of study, much to Thorunn’s chagrin, on religion, etiquette, reading, writing, speaking, weaving, and dancing; Eli wanted her very accomplished if she was going to be seen with him. Thorunn, however, remained stubborn and fought Eli about the lessons every step of the way but the teachings slowly started to shape her into her own kind of lady. 

 

When the day would be over, Eli would come back from his duties and press himself into Athelstan, urging him to his bed, until he relented and he'd give into the beast within. Eli loved to gauge his reactions as the beast within. He saw how Athelstan was hiding. 

 

Athelstan had begun to develop this mask of courtesy and class to cover his demons within. He'd act kind and honorable, things he knew he valued when he was human, to try and retain some of his humanity but he still had that dark side, and it seemed to always come out when he was dealing with Eli. Eli loved it; loved to see the monster within whom he created. Eli took great pride in that. 

 

Athelstan had always tried to be a kind person when he was alive but those days, between kills that didn't seem to lessen in number as the months went by, it was beginning to become harder to remember how he was before he was raised, when he was  _ human _ , so he put on the mask. He had to pretend that everything was ok because if he didn't, he knew he’d fall apart. Sometimes, though, his mask became so believable that he even fooled himself into believing he was still good but only for short moments because he was always quickly reminded of the monster within. 

 

For the most part, Athelstan kept to himself, finding he spent the most time in Eli’s solar, going through the the different books and scrolls packed into wooden shelves against the wall. He didn't understand most of it, it was written in some sort of ancient Hebrew but every now and then Athelstan would stumble upon one in Latin and he'd read until his mind was satisfied in it’s curiosity about Eli and his world of  _ magick _ . He used these books as a  _ distraction _ from everything else. 

 

They still fed, of course, but those times all too soon began to melt into one another in Athelstan’s mind as one long horrifying scenario that was never ending. Athelstan would always give in to the monster when they fed; it was easier that way, to block out the pain Athelstan had no choice but to carry out. 

 

For those first few months, Athelstan was in a constant state of confusion with his faith. He couldn't fathom how God could let one of his faithful worshippers be damned like this. Every night for a long while, in secret, Athelstan used to pray, beg for salvation for himself, for Thorunn even. He'd clutch his chest where his cross used to be, wanting some sort of physical assurance, but it was always gone. And as time went on, and as the kills got easier as he continued to let the demon take over so he wouldn't feel the overwhelming guilt of his actions, did he begin to believe— _ God  _ was surely gone.

 

All Athelstan had left was his own sense of right and wrong but as the months ticked by, he could begin to feel it too twist into something  _ other _ . The demon’s influence was a powerful thing, and with his failing faith, he knew he was weak against it. 

 

He couldn't deny that the blood made him feel  _ powerful  _ and  _ good;  _ sometimes he could tell he truly enjoyed the experience of feeding on someone's blood. It was addicting at how good the blood tasted. It sickened him by how far he'd fallen so fast.

* * *

 

One foggy, grey morning, all was usual in the castle. Eli was attending to matters with Almund about the finances, Thorunn was busy in her room at the loom Eli had purchased for her in the nearby village; he had his household seamstress assist her with her weaving, for she tended to get knots. This left Athelstan some time to sneak away to Eli’s solar and crack open the books on  _ magick  _ again.

 

He must have been immersed for awhile for he was suddenly shot out of his reverie by a large shout coming from the yard down below. Athelstan rushed to the open window and peered down onto the courtyard. At first he saw nothing until he looked in the corner of the yard where the training field was. And what he saw didn't surprise him one bit.

 

Thorunn, instead of weaving in her room like she was supposed to had apparently skipped out on lessons with the seamstress and traded them for lessons in sword fighting from the guardsmen  _ strigi _ . Athelstan saw Eli run across the courtyard in burst of speed and jerk Thorunn’s arm so hard she dropped her sword out of pain. 

 

This is where Athelstan decided he should cut in. He made his way down from the solar and out to the training yard at a speed he'd later recount as “impressive”. 

 

Athelstan could hear Thorunn and Eli shouting at each other the whole way to the training yard.

 

“I want to fight!” Thorunn was saying adamantly.

 

“But ladies don't wield swords!” Eli argued.

 

“I don't want to be a lady! It's  _ boring _ !”

 

“Oh don't be a child!”

 

“I  _ won't _ if you  _ won't _ .”

 

Athelstan decided it was best for him to say something now, “Now, I'm sure you two can come to some sort of agreement…”

 

“He's being unreasonable, I can't keep acting like a lady if I do not have to time to practice my swordsmanship! I'm not going to give up my sword just because I'm... _ this way _ .”

 

“You don't have to,” Athelstan tried to placate her. He thought for a moment then said, “How about this? Thorunn, you will agree to continue lessons in being a lady and Eli will agree to let you sword practice.”

 

“I will?” Eli questioned challengingly, raising a dark brow.

 

“Yes, that way both of you can be happy.”

 

“But what if the  _ others  _ find out?” Eli argued, referring to the other nobles who had been known to visit every once in awhile in the past, convinced Eli was a real Lord.

 

“Well, just do what you always do,  _ compel them _ ,” Athelstan folded his arms around his chest, confident he'd won the argument. He wasn't going to think about the fact that he'd just willingly suggested to Eli that he  _ compel _ someone. It really was becoming all too easy and so quickly. Was Athelstan so weak? Or was the demon just too strong, too  _ delicious _ to resist? What happened to being honorable? Athelstan wondered if sometimes he'd do anything for those he considers family, in this case Thorunn. 

 

Eli looked at Athelstan for a moment, surprised at Athelstan’s suggestion, then sighed, “Alright, alright. Thorunn, you have my permission to train as long as you keep up with your other studies as well and…” he paused, “Athelstan will join you in your training! I might as well have both of you as proficient killers in battle.”

 

Athelstan was unsure of whether or not he agreed with this. Sure he had fought back in the North  _ before _ but then he got swept away back to England and all that came after. After he returned to Kattegat he took up his duties in Ragnar’s household, and never took up a blade in a fighting manner since. He didn't know if he wanted to imbue more violence in his life, there was already so much as it was. He didn't think it was a good idea to add good fighting skill to his already deadly set of powers, but he had a feeling he didn't have much of a choice.

 

Training began the very next day, after the seamstress worked all night to hem a pair of trousers for Thorunn to wear for the session. Eli himself watched over their sparring sessions occasionally, sometimes calling out orders or even jumping in and showing them the moves himself. Some of the moves that Eli performed Athelstan had never seen before, he'd obviously had  _ years  _ of practice, and it looked as if Thorunn was in awe of his skill as well. Eli wielded that demon-head pommel sword, that Athelstan had seen the blacksmith working on back when they first arrived. He slashed his way through the  _ strigi  _ guardsmen in record time, using his incredible speed and strength to quickly knock them down. Eli didn't even use magick. Athelstan was begrudgingly impressed.

 

Athelstan found out quickly in their sessions that his new strength and super speed also came with super agility. He was hitting moves he'd never dreamed of doing in the past and so quickly. Despite his hatred of what he was, he had to admit that his love of knowledge made him appreciate the new found quickness in which he could obtain and retain knowledge of any kind. It made the old scholar in him hum in delight at all this new information he had learned in only a few short months time. 

 

Thorunn and Athelstan trained as often as they could for months, Athelstan slowly learning to somewhat enjoy the fight again, remembering his time spent with Ragnar and his training methods. He wondered what Ragnar would think of him of him fighting again.

 

Athelstan sighed as he watched Thorunn spar against one of Eli’s guardsmen; he didn't want to think of Ragnar, it was easier than to be faced with the reality that he was gone. Athelstan was probably never going to see him again. 

 

“She's doing well,” noted Eli, who just appeared at Athelstan’s shoulder. “Better than I expected, considering that scar she'd obtained.”

 

Athelstan hummed. He figured Thorunn was trying to make up for what she considers her ‘failure’ during her time as a shieldmaiden, training harder and faster than ever before. She was definitely giving Athelstan a run for his money in their sparring sessions together.

 

“Well, whatever she's done it for, it's a  _ gift. _ And speaking of gifts…” Eli turned Athelstan around to face him and then pulled something out from behind his back.

 

_ It was a journal _ .

 

Like the ones Athelstan used to write in up North and with King Ecbert.

 

“I noticed you writing and drawing in one back in Kattegat, so I had Almund search high and low for a good quality journal. I even set up some charcoal and paints at the table in your study.” Eli explained, a twinkle in his eye.

 

“ _ My study _ ?” 

 

“Don't think I haven't noticed you sneaking off into my solar,” Eli teased, “So, I decided to give you your own space to read, write,  _ practice magick _ …”

 

“Why would  _ I  _ want to practice  _ magick _ ?”

 

“I don't know. Why are you reading my  _ magick _ books if you don't want to learn,” Eli cocked his head to the side, studying him mockingly.

 

Athelstan didn't have an answer to that so he just turned back to watching Thorunn spar. Thankfully, Eli backed off. And Athelstan was called in to take Thorunn’s place in the spar. He took up a sword and jumped in.

* * *

More months passed. It was now more than half a year since Athelstan left Kattegat for the last time. Athelstan and Thorunn had grown into their respective stations in the castle. They were both becoming quite proficient during sword fighting practice, much to Eli's pleasure.

 

Athelstan and Thorunn had also begun practicing their control, so they wouldn't always be tempted to feed in large crowds, thus potentially giving the game away, at least in Eli’s terms. But there were setbacks...

 

It was a clear blue day when Eli invited Athelstan to ride out with him to the closest village, to see Athelstan’s homeland outside the world of the castle. This would be the first time Athelstan had ventured out of the castle since they'd arrived, feeling safer for others if he was behind stone walls, miles away from any village. 

 

Athelstan could do nothing but accept; Eli’s “invitation” was more of a demand than a request. It might also be good for him to test his control, it had been months perhaps he'd be able to sustain a few hours in an ale house, he could do with feeding off all of the drunk, happy energy. He still didn't know how he was able to do that, feel the emotions of those around him from time to time when the emotions were so strong they come off a person in  _ waves _ . Athelstan never asked Eli about it, chalking it up to  _ strigi _ senses.

 

So midday they bid goodbye to Thorunn, who was infuriated that she could not accompany them, and they rode out towards the nearby village.

 

Night was falling as they rode down the dirt strewn path, close now to the village, when Athelstan spotted a carriage in the road. It was tipped over, the horse pulling it crushed, dead underneath it. They moved closer and that's when it hit him, the smell of blood.

 

It had been longer since Athelstan fed than he thought for before he knew what he was doing, he was off his horse and ripping the carriage off the bodies underneath. It seemed to be a small family, consisting of a small girl, a young wife and her husband. They were badly slashed open in several places. They wouldn't be alive much longer.

 

The child noticed Athelstan through the blood coating her eyes and she held out a pleading hand. Athelstan's next actions would haunt him forever.

 

Instead of saving that poor family, that poor  _ child _ , Athelstan was overcome with bloodlust; they were  _ covered _ in it! He couldn't help himself, so he bit into the flesh of the father and drank.

 

Eli watched in vague amusement as Athelstan devoured every last drop of that misfortunate family.

 

Athelstan was horrified by what he had done once he'd came to his senses. It was beginning to get easier to see those he killed as a means to a meal, such was the effect of giving into the demon, but that night, as Athelstan stared at that poor child, he was struck by the mere monstrosity of it all. He'd just killed a child, her blood was on his hands; he'd never be able to wash it away. 

 

Eli sighed and jumped off his horse, “ _ Relax _ , Athelstan. They were as good as dead anyway. Believe me, you gave them a more merciful death than what they were destined for.”

 

“Must I always be like this, controlled by my hunger?” Athelstan lamented.

 

“It will take time, hundreds of years even, but it is possible to get your bloodlust under control. It just takes practice. I'm sure if they were just a family passing by on their carriage, not a drop of blood in sight, you'd pass them by with barely a second glance.” Eli held out a hand and Athelstan took it, rising up from the ground. 

 

Eli’s words were of a little comfort to Athelstan.

 

“What do we...uh,  _ do _ with the bodies?” Athelstan managed, he was still pretty torn up. He wiped away the bloody remnants from his chin. He spared a look at the bodies, bloodied and scarred beyond repair. Perhaps Eli was right, killing them was a mercy. Or perhaps that was dangerous thinking to be having. It truly was becoming easier to just  _ give in _ and  _ not care _ , at least whilst the mask was firmly in place; he could pretend that he was still good.

 

“Leave them. They are so badly scratched up, no one would be able to discern your bite marks.” He motioned for Athelstan to get back on his horse. 

 

They ended up not going to the village that night; Eli taking pity on Athelstan and allowing them to go back to the castle. There was no need to prey upon the villagers, Eli could go longer than Athelstan without blood considering his age.

 

Athelstan was thankful that Eli didn't mention what happened to Thorunn. The less people who knew what he'd done, the better.

* * *

 

Tim passed. A year had gone by since Athelstan saw Ragnar last. He missed him. He thought about him everyday, though he tried not to. He hoped that Ragnar had a fruitful conquest of Paris, he'd heard not a word of otherwise.

 

Eli moved to the table Athelstan sat at and ran a finger up and down the tabletop, “You’ve been in my care for months. I've been teaching you how to become the very best  _ strigi _ in every way except... _ magick _ .”

 

Athelstan paused his scratching in his journal. 

 

_ Magick _ ?

 

“I think it's time I begin training in you in the mystical arts. After all, you've shown some interest in my scrolls,” Eli pointed out. 

 

Athelstan stayed silent. He looked down at what he'd been scratching into his journal and quickly snapped it shut so Eli wouldn't see. He'd been drawing  _ Ragnar  _ subconsciously. 

 

“So, are you ready?” Eli didn't seem to notice or care about Athelstan’s movements with his journal.

 

“To practice  _ now? _ ”

 

“Why not? No time like the present! Besides, Thorunn’s busy with her lady duties right now, so she won't be a bother.” Eli grabbed Athelstan by the arm and pulled him out of his chair and away from his journal.

 

They walked back into Eli’s solar and Eli cleared his table of its various objects so he could set up the spell.

 

Eli placed a feather on the middle of the table, then stood back in silence.

 

“Well?” Athelstan said. “What am I to do?”

 

“You are to  _ levitate  _ this feather.”

 

“ _ How? _ ”

 

“Magick is all about intent and belief. You concentrate all your will into believing you can make this feather fly, make it happen with your mind, body, and spirit. Now close your eyes.”

 

Athelstan hesitated a moment before complying. He still didn't trust Eli, not even after all these months. He'd gone along with Eli’s whims, feeling he had little choice in the matter. Eli was very obviously trying to  _ groom _ him into being just like Eli and Athelstan feared it was beginning to work. It was becoming easier and easier to give into the demon inside to numb the pain he felt at taking a life. When he let go, it became so much easier to be what Eli created—a monster. That's why he subconsciously created the mask. To cover those ugly parts of him that remained buried until he snapped again. Athelstan was aware of the fact that he was going to live forever; he was terrified to find out what he would become in the coming years. If what he was doing now was any indication, his future looked bleak.

 

Athelstan did as Eli said and closed his eyes, concentrating. He felt as though his head was going to explode with how much he was focusing all his energy into getting the feather to float but all that noise he was hearing constantly was making it difficult. When he opened his eyes it was still laying on the table, unmoved. 

 

“Don't pout, Athelstan. I hardly expected you to get it on your first time;  _ magick  _ is very difficult to learn. It takes time to hone your craft, now try again,” he indicated to the feather once more.

 

Athelstan tried again, focusing harder than ever but still,  _ nothing _ .

 

“You’re getting too frustrated,  _ magick  _ comes easier to those who are clear minded and level headed,” advised Eli. “Now try once more and  _ clear your mind  _ of anything but getting that feather to float.”

 

Athelstan sighed, frustrated at it all, but went along with what Eli said. He closed his eyes one more time and tried to clear his head of  _ everything _ —the deaths he'd caused, the people he'd lost, all of it. He cleared it away and finally focused solely on making that feather float. He stayed like that for a few minutes, eyes closed and concentrating, when Eli let out a triumphant yell.

 

Athelstan snapped open his eyes. 

 

He did it.

 

He'd managed to get that feather float up off the table, at least twelve inches in air. It was even spinning slowly around in circles.

 

“And only on the third try! That's impressive, Athelstan, truly,” Eli clapped Athelstan on the back in a show of camaraderie.

 

Athelstan was confused by Eli daily. He didn't know what his ultimate game was. One day he's threatening to kill off Athelstan’s entire family and the next he's gifting him a journal and looking at him with an odd look of pride on his face when Athelstan made the feather float and twirl.

 

Athelstan carefully slid out of Eli’s grasp and avoided his gaze, he couldn't look at those eyes, so usually full of malice or contempt suddenly so soft. Athelstan couldn't take that look, not from Eli.

 

“I wanted to talk to you about something Athelstan,” Eli turned serious.

 

_ Uh oh. _

 

“What is it?” Athelstan feigned impatience but secretly his mind was racing at that possibilities at what Eli wanted to talk to him about.

 

“I am planning a welcome home feast to  _ finally _ ,  _ officially _ welcome you and Thorunn into my household. It's been  _ ages  _ since I last threw a proper party. All the neighboring Lords and their families have been invited—”

 

“Will we feed on them?”

 

“No, unless you want to? There will be music and feasting, of real human food, so we’ll have to feed before they arrive. I wanted to ask you, do you think Thorunn is ready to present herself as a lady?”

 

Athelstan thought about this. Although Thorunn still practiced sword fighting everyday, she did as was promised and stopped fighting her lady lessons. Within the past months she excelled in every lesson, quickly acclimating into her own version of a Lady. Athelstan thought she was still very deadly, killing with ease when it suited her to feed and with no remorse. Athelstan could feel his own self going to those dark places. So the mask slid on.

 

“I don't think she's ever going to be a  _ true _ soft, demure Lady,” answered Athelstan truthfully. “But I think she will be convincing in front of other people. I think she knows how to put on the act.”

 

“You'd know all about that wouldn't you?” sneered Eli.

 

Athelstan kept himself from rolling his eyes. It seemed that Eli couldn't help himself from being vindictive. 

 

The party was held a fortnight later, giving the poor seamstress barely enough time to garb Athelstan and Thorunn in the finest of robes. Athelstan’s was of a deep cobalt blue with silver stitching on the sleeves and around the hem. Thorunn’s dress was white with matching deep cobalt stitching down the sides. Eli insisted they match, to pull off the whole “siblings” angle. 

 

Athelstan was beginning to feel at home in his nobleman’s garb. It felt like an appropriate costume to his mask.

 

They fed beforehand, Athelstan now not even batting an eye before slipping away to let the demon take over. In those moments he truly felt  _ nothing,  _ and it was blissful. 

 

Many Lords and Ladies came to the party, dressed in the same refinery as Athelstan and the others. Eli spun tales to regale his audience, stories about where he'd been the past years and who Athelstan and Thorunn were. Nobody seemed to question a thing, Athelstan and Thorunn playing their own separate parts nicely, deeply impressing Eli. For the most part, both of them were doing extremely well in controlling their bloodlust to reasonable levels, unless faced with an extreme circumstance like Athelstan and that family in the carriage. Eli knew Athelstan still struggled with his new want to kill, unlike Thorunn who seemed to have accepted it as her new way of life, but he knew that Athelstan was slowly beginning to accept the kill. Eli saw Athelstan slip on that mask of false courtesy to cover up his demons; Eli hated it, but knew it was necessary, especially at gatherings like these.

 

Athelstan seemed a dazzler to the Ladies visiting, much to Eli’s silent dislike and Thorunn’s amusement. He very was polite and dignified to the Ladies, mask firmly in place so he could ignore the urge of wanting to rip their throats out for their incessant chatter about frivolous things; it was the monster that wanted that violence and it was beginning to warp Athelstan's insides to where he was beginning to want it to. 

 

They dined on what Athelstan assumed was good food, for everything tasted bland to him after becoming a  _ strigi _ . After dinner, they gathered in the large sitting room where the men talked of battle and politics, Eli peppering in story after story about his supposed exploits, Athelstan wondering if they true. Thorunn, Athelstan noticed, looked miserable among the ladies although they liked her. Thorunn’s Anglo-Saxon had improved so well these past few months that her accent was almost indiscernible, and she had learned to say the right things amongst the ladies. They were enchanted with her but Thorunn was bored with them. She preferred swordplay to gossip but she didn't dare say anything to indicate otherwise. She was no fool to Eli’s strength and she'd rather stay on his good side; he was allowing her to practice her swordsmanship, she supposed she should try and act a lady. Thorunn faked her smiles as the women engaged her in polite conversation, them asking her everything about her backstory, which she, Eli, and Athelstan had all gotten straight before the guests arrived. 

 

She and Athelstan were long lost cousins of Eli, who had been living among the Vikings until Eli came and rescued them. It was almost like a twisted version of the truth, which the noblemen ate up. 

 

Around some point in the night, someone suggested music so Eli called in his own personal musicians who struck up a chord. Soon, a lady pulled her lord up to dance and others followed. There was happiness in the room that night, it seemed so unfamiliar to Athelstan but so welcome. He didn't dance, he didn't need to in order to feel the effects of the happiness the others were feeling. 

 

Thorunn joined in on the dance, impressing the ladies with moves from the Vikings. She had to resist the urge to rip out one of the lady’s tongues though, when she made a comment about such savages having such beautiful dance moves. Athelstan saw a change in Thorunn’s eye and pulled her away when her eyes started to change color. 

 

“ _ Careful _ ,” Athelstan whispered quickly and under his breath. Eli had taught them a new way of communicating with each when there were humans present.

 

“ _ I'm trying _ ,” Thorunn whispered back, smiling falsely as someone commented her dancing skills again.

 

Athelstan was so preoccupied with calming Thorunn, he didn't notice Eli slip away from the party until he turned back towards him and Eli was gone. He was gone for a few minutes and when he returned, he looked troubled. He quickly covered up his troubled look however when he noticed Athelstan staring. 

 

Eli, feigning exhaustion, quickly ended the party after everyone had their fill of dancing and sent them on their way and out of the castle.

 

Once the Lords and Ladies were gone, Eli, Thorunn, and Athelstan all subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. It was incredibly taxing to pretend to be  _ human _ ; your body didn't have those  _ human ticks _ anymore, so the whole time the  _ strigi _ trio had to be conscious of their every movement, trying to not sit as still as a statute.

 

Athelstan quietly bid Thorunn good night, wanting a chance alone with Eli. He wanted to know what that look was about.

 

He found Eli brooding over a letter in his study. It was burned around the edges. It must have come from someone like Eli, for Athelstan now understood what  _ burning _ a letter meant, from studying  _ magick _ under Eli. 

 

Athelstan approached slowly, waiting for Eli to notice him.

 

Suddenly, Eli looked up from the burnt pages and quickly snatched them out of sight; he must have been lost in his mind if he didn't hear Athelstan approach. He flashed his most dazzling and deceptive smile and said, “Athelstan! What brings you in here so late at night?”

 

Athelstan ignored his attempts to delay the subject, “What's in the letter?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“There's something troubling you, I saw it on your face the moment you came back to the party after leaving without a comment—”

 

“Awh, are you  _ worried _ about me?”

 

“ _ No," _ Athelstan scoffed.  "But I fear what may be troubling you may have something to do with me, so  _ out with it _ !” The demon flared up, impatient about the sense of impending doom it was feeling, deep in Athelstan’s gut.

 

_ Pause.  _

 

“I'm not sure you’ll be able to handle it,” Eli said after a moment of contemplation.

 

“ _ Try me _ ,” breathed Athelstan in response.

 

Eli's eyes turned sharp, “You want to know?  _ Fine _ . One of my associates from France just burned me this letter tonight. And do you want to know what it said?”

 

_ No. _

 

_ “Yes, _ ” Athelstan urged out loud. In the later years, Athelstan would wish he'd never pushed the subject.

 

“Ragnar is dead.”

  
  
  
  



	9. NINE

_'When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.'_

_\- George R. R. Martin_

* * *

The world shattered.

It was in pieces.

Athelstan couldn't hear what Eli was saying; he didn't _care_ about what Eli was saying, all that was going through his head was—

_RagnarisdeadRagnarisdeadRagnarisdead_

He was panicking he was sure. If he was normal his palms would have begun sweating, his heart would have been racing, and his breath labored. As it was, Athelstan stood where he was, rooted to the spot, fingers clenched vice-like and drawing blood from digging into his palms with incredible strength.

Ragnar is _dead._ And Athelstan feels like he cannot survive this. He thought he could, with the knowledge that Ragnar and his family were safe and _alive_. But now...

He’s not aware of Eli moving closer to him, cautiously, until he places a hand on Athelstan’s shoulder. Athelstan flinched away, not wanting his touch at this time.

“Athelstan…” Eli edged. “Do you need me leave so you can have some time to grieve…?”

Athelstan jerked his head towards Eli and then the words came tumbling out of mouth, “ _Do the spell._ ”

Eli paused now, shock still, both he and Athelstan not truly believing what Athelstan just said.

“ _Pardon_?” Eli finally managed.

“Do the spell to raise Ragnar.” Now that it was out there, Athelstan decided to go with it, desperate.

“And why, pray tell, would _I_ do _that_?” Eli arched a brow.

“Because it would make me happy, and for some reason, despite _everything_ _you’ve done to me_ , you _care_ about my happiness.” Athelstan couldn't stop the words but they felt so good just to _say them_.

Eli got a look on his face, “What makes you think I care about your happiness?”

“You gave me that journal, noticing I had one back in Kattegat. You said you searched high and low for one for me, are you saying that _you_ would do that for _anyone_?”

Eli was silent.

“I'm right then,” Athelstan settles. “So do the spell.”

Eli scoffs, “So you can run away into the sunset with Ragnar and leave me in the dust?”

“You'd have Thorunn.”

“ _I don't want Thorunn.”_

Athelstan sighs, then makes a decision, one that he knows he’ll regret for hundreds of years to come, “I'll stay.”

Eli didn't look convinced, “But I’d still have _Ragnar._ ”

Athelstan slowly walked toward Eli, knowing what he had to do, and said “But you'd also have me. And that's what you want, _right?_ ” He got close into Eli’s space and placed a hand on his chest.

Eli sighed, “Even if I wanted to do the spell, I can't.”

“Why not? Not strong enough?” Athelstan was feeling vindictive. He pulled away from Eli.

“ _No_ ,” Eli groused. “The laws of nature state that one can only perform that spell once every 1,000 years. For most people, that's once a lifetime, but for us…”

“Well then, teach me to do the spell!”

Eli considered this, “ _If_ I agree to this, _you_ have to promise _me_ something.”

“ _Anything.”_

“Stop giving over to your demon side to block out the emotions you’re feeling when we have sex. I want to have sex with _you_ , all of you. And you’ll stop feeling guilt at the people you've killed, that act is getting old—”

Athelstan opened his mouth to protest but Eli cut him off, saying, “Don't worry, you can keep up your little _charade_ of chivalry.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” spat Athelstan. He'd thought his mask was carefully crafted, but it seemed Eli could see through the cracks in its exterior that even Athelstan himself couldn't see.

Eli only chuckled, “I'll allow you to keep playing your games, outside the bedroom. Do we have an agreement?”

It seemed as though Athelstan was always making deals with Eli—deals with the _devil_ more like—but this time was different. This time, Athelstan was grievously desperate.

So, Athelstan did the only thing he could do and agreed.

Eli smiled, “Good. And now I need assurance that you’ll hold up your end of the end of the deal.”

“...what do you want me to do?”

“ _Kiss me_ , like you mean it.”

Athelstan hesitated a moment. If he did this, without giving over to the demon, he'd feel as if he was really betraying Ragnar, but if he didn't…he'd never see Ragnar again. He remembered Ragnar’s soft smile on his face when he looked at him; Athelstan wanted to see that smile again, so he did what he agreed to and kissed Eli.

It was a soft touch of lips at first, hesitant, but after a moment Eli grasped the sides of Athelstan’s head and pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss. He curled his fingers into Athelstan shoulder-length locks that he kept groomed. Their mouths tangled wetly, Eli quickly establishing dominance. He pushed Athelstan backwards until they were up against the stone wall, Eli quickly unfastening Athelstan’s belt around his refined tunic. He threw it to the ground, his lips never leaving Athelstan’s.

He knelt down and rucked up the tunic under Athelstan’s armpits, his chest now exposed. Eli quickly fastened onto a rosy nipple, that pebbled under his ministrations with his tongue. Athelstan cried out, hating himself for loving the sensation pleasure. The demon within him was crying out for Athelstan to _give over_ to him, but Athelstan kept his word and stayed conscious through everything for the first time since they arrived in England.

Eli kissed and nipped lower, fully on his knees now. He shoved Athelstan’s trousers down, revealing Athelstan’s shamefully hardening cock. Eli smiled at the sight of it and took it reverently in his hands. Athelstan glanced down and he and Eli’s eyes locked. They stayed staring at each other as Eli wrapped his lips around Athelstan’s cock.

Athelstan forgot how pleasurable that could be. When he would give over to the demon, he would feel whatever the demon was feeling but it felt muted, he never felt the full effects. Now, however, he was feeling everything: every kiss, every touch, every soft lick to his cock. It was overwhelming. Athelstan caught himself wondering what it would feel like with Ragnar but quickly stopped himself before that thought took root. He didn't know if Ragnar even truly wanted him that way or if was just Athelstan hoping— _praying_ —that Ragnar felt the same way. He remembered how Ragnar told him he loved Athelstan. How surprised Athelstan was. How he wished he'd said something back instead of staring in awe at his confession, because Athelstan loved Ragnar too.

He knew that now.

It only took Ragnar’s _death_ for him to realize it. He hoped that when Ragnar told Athelstan he loved him, he meant it the same way Athelstan meant it.

Eli could tell Athelstan wasn't focusing on him, so he upped the ante and began sucking on Athelstan’s cock in earnest, licking the underside and teasing the slit. Athelstan’s eyes went wide and his hands flew to Eli’s dark curls. Eli smirked around his cock and took him deeper. He fondled Athelstan’s balls for a moment before sneaking a hand further back and circling around Athelstan’s hole.

Athelstan came to himself enough to ask, “You got any of that oil?”

Eli pulled off of Athelstan with a pop and said, “It’s in our room.”

“Then take me there, I don't want to have sex on a table again, it was _uncomfortable_ the last time and I'm not doing it without oil.”

Eli was happy with Athelstan’s change in tone and said, “Very well.” He stood up and wrapped a hand around Athelstan waist and looped the other underneath his legs, pulling him effortlessly into his arms.

“Here we go,” then they sped off, out of Eli’s solar and into their room where Eli quickly deposited Athelstan on the soft bed.

“Take off your clothes,” Eli demanded as he rifled around his chest a foot of his bed, looking for the oil.

Athelstan did as he was told, flinging his long, refined tunic somewhere in the corner of the room, along with his trousers, hose and leather shoes. He lay naked in the bed with scared anticipation, waiting as Eli shucked off his own clothes and climbed back onto the bed, jar of oil in hand. Athelstan wasn't sure he wanted to revisit those times he and Eli had sex, in the very beginning, before Athelstan learned how to give over to the demon. Those times always left Athelstan’s head in a mess of confusion and he didn't want that, not when he'd just admitted to himself that he loved Ragnar.

Eli caressed Athelstan’s face, bringing them close as if to kiss again before whispering in Athelstan’s ear, “Remember... _no stepping out.”_ His voice went harsh and his hands gripped Athelstan's hair, hard. Athelstan shivered, remembering just how powerful those hands were.

Hesitantly, he placed his own hand over Eli’s and looked him in the eye, steady.

“I agreed, didn't I? I’m a man of my word,” Athelstan said, trying to placate Eli’s suspicions. He _needed_ Eli to believe him. It was his only hope. Eli was the only one who could teach him the spell and if this was the price he had to pay, so be it.

Eli tilted his head, “So I see.”

“You’ll be a man of _your_ word, _right_ Eli?”

Eli smiled, sharp, “Of course, _matok_.” Then he brought Athelstan in for another bruising kiss, this time grinding their groins together, their cocks sliding against one another. Athelstan gasped into Eli’s mouth at the feeling. Eli unscrewed the jar and coated a finger in the oil before trailing it down Athelstan’s front teasingly and towards his opening.

Athelstan steeled himself at the feeling of Eli’s finger pushing inside him, he'd never get used to the feeling of being filled up. Eli wasted no time in getting him ready, quickly having two more fingers in him, scissoring him open. Athelstan was overcome with pleasure every time Eli would brush up against that sweet spot inside him and he'd grip Eli’s shoulders harder and harder until he was drawing blood and Eli was moaning from the pleasure.

Finally, Eli said, “I think you’re ready.” He removed his fingers, Athelstan holding in a whimper at the loss, and slicked up his cock quickly with the oil.

He and Athelstan locked eyes again as Eli spread open Athelstan’s legs and propped one over his shoulder. Athelstan dug his fingers inside Eli’s hips as he slowly pushed in, past Athelstan’s rim. Inch by agonizing inch Eli thrust in until he was fully sheathed.

Athelstan knew better than to screw his eyes shut, no matter how desperately he wanted to and instead focused on the pleasure. A dark idea crossed Athelstan’s mind: he could participate in Eli’s little trysts for his own pleasure—use Eli the way he was always using Athelstan and it could be Athelstan’s own little secret, at least until Ragnar was back. Athelstan smiled a secret vindictive smile at his plan and pushed his ankle into Eli’s back to urge him further in.

Eli smiled at Athelstan’s apparent participation and leaned down to kiss him once more, this time Athelstan responding in earnest which had Eli abruptly stopping the kisses and forcing Athelstan’s eyes open; they were normal. He hadn't given over to the demon.

“Stop worrying,” Athelstan crooed, channeling some dark part of him that knew just how to manipulate Eli into getting what he wanted. Athelstan didn't think about the fact that he was acting just as Eli would; that didn't matter anymore. Ragnar was _dead_ . And Athelstan was willing to do anything to bring him back, even if that meant chipping away some of the good parts of himself. “I'm not going to give into my demon side. Now, are you going to _fuck_ me or have you given up that part of the deal?”

Eli arched a brow at Athelstan sudden sass but complied and began to move, slow at first but quickly finding a bruising pace. Athelstan curled a hand in Eli’s hair and the other still clutching his hip. Eli had both hands on Athelstan’s hips, thrusting into him brutally. Soon, he was pounding out moans from Athelstan as he hit that spot over and over inside him.

Athelstan didn't close his eyes, instead locking his with Eli to make their coupling seem sincere to Eli. It seemed Eli had a weakness— _Athelstan_ —and now Athelstan knew how to use that to his advantage. As they fucked, Athelstan spared a lonely thought for the human he once was, and who he'd probably never be again, if he resorted to sex to get what he wanted. He sunk so low, but he told himself Ragnar was worth it. And to Athelstan, he truly was.

They were both getting close now, Athelstan’s moans getting louder and faster as Eli continued to fuck him into the mattress. Eli, feeling kind, wrapped a hand around Athelstan’s now leaking cock and jerked him, until Athelstan was coming with a shout over both their chests. Eli let go at the sight of Athelstan coming, and spilled inside of Athelstan. He collapsed on top of Athelstan, still inside him.

Athelstan laid there, still as a statue. He always got awkward when Eli initiated intimate contact after sex. He slowly placed his hands on Eli’s shoulders and gently rolled him off, and out, of him. Eli settled beside Athelstan with a sigh and began twirling his fingers in Athelstan’s locks.

A moment of silence passed before Athelstan said, “So can we begin practicing?”

Eli dropped his hand from Athelstan’s hair and groaned, “Are you really serious about this? It may take time, years even, to amass such power.”

“I bet you could teach me in half the time. You said so yourself, I impressed you with how quickly I was able to use my magic.”

“Yes but that was _levitating a feather,_ not _raising the dead_. There are steps one must take before attempting that spell.”

“Like what?”

Eli propped his head onto his head and looked at Athelstan, “You must learn how to call onto the elements, they are _key_ in the spell, for only nature’s intervention can bring someone back from the realm of the dead.”

“Do we need the body?”

“No, it's not necessary in order to perform the spell. You just speak their name, or a _form_ of their name, and the spell knows the rest. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I'm willing to work hard, whatever it takes.”

Eli considered Athelstan for a moment before sighing, “Alright. We’ll begin in the morning, but first, you need to rest, because I will work you, _hard_. If you want to do this as quick as possible then you’ll have work harder than you ever have in your life, can you do that?”

Athelstan nodded earnestly, “I can do it, I swear.”

“Alright, now rest.”

Athelstan nodded and reluctantly closed his eyes and let sleep envelope him. Eli was right, he needed his strength.

* * *

 

Eli and Athelstan started their first lesson early the next morning, standing out on the sand, down the cliffs, outside of the castle walls. Athelstan could see the Viking ship that they sailed here in, a year ago, hidden underneath the cliffs. Athelstan was aware of the chill in the air; winter had just left England but the cold would remain early in the morning.

“We are going to start the first lesson by doing something easy, something simple. I want you to call on the mist,” Eli was saying.

Athelstan turned to him, “Like you did on our journey here.”

“Aye. This spell is simple enough, you just have to concentrate and say the right words.” He told Athelstan the words then stepped back and allowed him to do the work.

Athelstan took a deep, unneeded breath, then closed his eyes. He focused on the wind whipping around him and silently whispered the words that Eli taught him into the air. He let himself feel centered, concentrating on that feeling that was growing in his chest. The demon within recognized it as power. _Magickal_ power.

All was silent until Eli broke his concentration with noise that sounded like he was impressed. Athelstan flashed his eyes open.

_He did it_.

The mist was rolling in through the clouds, obscuring their vision. Athelstan stood there a moment, disbelieving he'd actually done it, so quickly.

“Well, I suppose we can move onto the next lesson,” Eli said. He couldn't deny, he was impressed.

They spent months and months amassing Athelstan’s power, Eli teaching him how to harness that power into calling on various forces of nature. Athelstan excelled at every step, going above and beyond Eli’s expectations.

In between the hours of spent practicing magick, Athelstan continued his lessons in fighting with Thorunn. In the past year, Thorunn had decided she wanted to learn other fighting styles, so Eli stepped in full, finding the time to teach them fighting techniques that he'd learned over his last 800 years of life.

Feeding was becoming, to Athelstan’s detached horror, easier since he did what Eli said and tried to stop feeling guilty about it. He still only tried to kill unless it was necessary, like feeding. But he knew, with all the fighting skill he was amassing, one day he would kill and not for food. Athelstan hoped that day was far away.

The mask still stayed in place, it was one of the only things keeping Athelstan comfort in those trying times. The mask made it easier to believe that he was still a good person, although Athelstan knew his body count would object to that.

Eli continued to have Athelstan sleep with him whenever he wanted; Athelstan stayed true to his word and kept himself from giving over to demon, much to its frustration. Those times spent in those intimate moments with Eli made Athelstan’s head spin. He still hated Eli, deeply, but some secret part of him was confused by Eli’s sudden willingness to help him. He remembered what he told Eli—Eli cared about Athelstan; Athelstan was his weakness and Athelstan used that to his advantage.

Sometimes, when Eli was being stubborn about starting a certain lesson of the day, Athelstan, urged on by a dark part of him, would coerce Eli with promises of sex to get him to do what he wanted. Athelstan had a suspicion that Eli knew he was being played but he didn't seem to care.

So the months passed, Athelstan becoming stronger with his magick and his fighting skills with each passing day. Finally, Eli decided that it was time for Athelstan’s final lesson before he was ready to perform the spell.

It was late in the evening, the castle was warm with all the hearths lit, for it was winter again; another year had passed. Athelstan was waiting in his study, scratching away at his journal. He already acquired a new one from Eli, he'd filled the first one up quickly with sketches and written little blurbs about his new life. Eli had told him that morning that today would be their last lesson, and Athelstan spent the whole day filled with nervous excitement as to what that lesson was. Finally, Eli came to fetch him.

He led Athelstan through the halls of the castle, having entwined their fingers, which made Athelstan completely uncomfortable but he didn't pull his hand away, not when he was _so close_ to having Ragnar back.

They arrived at the little chapel built into the castle; Athelstan had never entered it before, he was always afraid to. When they entered, however, the inside didn't look like the inside of a church at all. There were no crosses or crucifixes, nothing that had anything to do with Christ, which Athelstan shamefully felt grateful for. He didn't want to be reminded of his downfall.

In the center on the back wall of the, mostly empty, fake chapel was a large stone altar that looked big enough that a human body could lay upon it.

“What is this place?” Athelstan asked.

Eli let go of Athelstan’s hand and walked to the altar and with a wave of his palm, lit the candles surrounding it, casting them in low, orange light. He placed the satchel that he'd been carrying down on the ground. He sat down beside it in front of  the altar and turned to pat a space beside him for Athelstan. Athelstan took the hint and sat down.

“As you could probably tell, I've _disguised_ this place to look like a small chapel; it's very common for Lords to have them in their castles and I thought it'd be a very convenient cover up,” Eli explained.

“Cover up for…?” Athelstan asked.

“For my more, _sacrificial_ magick. That altar is where you'll perform the sacrifice for the spell, once you finish this lesson correctly.”

“And what, exactly, is this lesson?”

“You are going to enter the spirit world.”

_Oh_.

“Will I be able to see Ragnar?” Athelstan was hopeful.

“The spirit world is only for those who have unfinished business _or_ a supernatural creature, like you and me. Ragnar may very well be in Valhalla.”

“So is my God real then?”

“Pardon?”

“He can't be, if Ragnar is in Valhalla.”

Eli only smiled this secret smile and asked, “Does it matter?”

Silence ensued for a moment before Athelstan collected himself and said, “How am I going to contact the spirit world?”

“Through severe meditation and concentration, and a few choice words. Now, I want you to sit on the altar and close your eyes,” Eli gestured to the altar and Athelstan did as he was told.

He sat down on the cold stone that seeping through his clothes but it didn't bother him. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes. He did what Eli taught him and centered his mind, focusing on one thing, in this case, the wind howling outside as the cold air blew through.

Once Eli was satisfied that Athelstan was centered, he told him the words to say and Athelstan repeated them back, slowly.

Athelstan remained in his spot, his mind focused on the wind for what felt like hours until, suddenly, the world felt like it tilted on its axis.

Something was urging Athelstan to open his eyes and slowly, he did. As he opened his eyes, he knew he was no longer on the living plane of existence.

He was still sitting at the altar but everything was different. The world seemed _grey_ , not at all vibrant like Athelstan was now used to with his _strigi_ eyes. He stood up and saw, with amazement, as he left his body still sitting at the altar with his eyes closed, meditating. He could see Eli too, watching him meditate very closely. Athelstan walked up to Eli and watched as his hand went right through Eli’s head. Eli didn't even flinch.

Athelstan amused himself for a few moments by swiping his hand through Eli, knowing he couldn't feel it, until he decided that fun was over. He wanted to know if he could see other spirits. He walked out of the chapel and made his way out of the castle and down the road that led to town.

He walked for awhile, long enough that he was beginning to worry that Eli would pull him out of his trance before he got the chance to talk to a spirit. He wanted to know whether or not they knew about Ragnar and where he was.

Town was getting close now, and soon Athelstan approached that accursed spot where he killed that small family. As he walked past where their bloody mess once lay, he was suddenly aware that he was not alone. He looked off into the trees but saw nothing. When he turned back around he was startled. He was sure that if he wasn't already dead, he would have been then for the shock of who he saw before him.

It was that little girl that he killed! On that very road!

She looked better now, in death, not covered in deep, gushing gashes. She was staring at Athelstan with wide eyes; she recognized him.

“I-I,” Athelstan stammered. What was he supposed to say?

“You’re the man that killed me,” said the girl.

Athelstan edged away from her slowly, unsure of what she was capable of doing.

“You took Mama and Papa away from me!” The girl was getting angry now and she walked towards him, slowly. Her dark brown hair started to stand on its end as she got closer, her eyes went totally white.

“I'm sorry!” Athelstan called, he had started to run in the opposite direction, trying to get away from the rightfully vengeful little girl.

But when he turned around, there she was, white eyes glowing.

“No ‘I'm sorry’s’! Just die!” She screamed and raised a hand, trying to kill him but nothing happened, for Athelstan suddenly found himself ripped away from the scene and he was back inside his body.

“Athelstan? Athelstan!” Eli was saying, shaking him out of his trance.

Athelstan slowly opened his eyes and saw Eli there, looking at him with a look of anticipation on his face.

“Did you do it?” Eli asked.

Athelstan could only nod his head, still shaken by what had occurred in the spirit world.

Eli sat back, amazed that Athelstan was able to do such powerful magick and he had only been studying intensely under Eli for a year. He was a little jealous.

Athelstan gathered himself and asked, “When can we do the spell? I proved myself, haven't I?”

Eli waved a hand, “Yes, yes. You have shown me you are more than capable of doing the spell, _believe me_.”

Athelstan felt odd, he never liked receiving Eli’s praise because then some part of him that he didn't understand would preen under his praise, even though Athelstan hated him. He didn't understand that. Athelstan was sure he'd never fully understand what his body did now.

“So when? Now?”

Eli stood up from his spot beside the altar and offered a hand to Athelstan, who took it after a moment’s hesitation.

“We do it tomorrow; I convened with the spirits of nature earlier and they told me a great storm will be passing through, _perfect_ for our spell,” Eli answered.

Athelstan nodded, satisfied. He could wait another day. The thought gave him comfort, he was going to see Ragnar in just one more day. He smiled to himself, Eli eyeing his smile with growing jealousy. He knew _exactly_ what made Athelstan smile like that.

That day, before the ritual as the storm came rolling in, Athelstan found the time to pull Thorunn aside from her weaving, although he didn't think she'd complain. He wanted to tell her his plan, for all this time Athelstan kept it a secret. He didn't know why he did, exactly, but he felt that she deserved to know. So, while Eli was away gathering supplies, Athelstan took her aside and told her the truth.

At first, she didn't say anything, seeming to process, but then she says, “I trust you understand what you’re doing, for I remember Eli’s little _magick_ tricks and they’re not _pretty_.”

Athelstan sighed, “I’ve been practicing for a year now and even _Eli_ admits I'm pretty good. I'll be alright.”

Thorunn twists her face but nods. She stops a moment before asking, “Why all this for Ragnar? Do you love him that much?”

Athelstan’s first instinct was to evade the question but he knew Thorunn would figure it out one way or another so he said simply, “ _Yes_.”

A smile grew on Thorunn’s face, “I _knew_ it.”

Athelstan laughed a little.

“Promise you’ll protect me from his wrath?” Thorunn was only half-joking. She knew Ragnar would not be happy with her, abandoning his son and their daughter.

Athelstan eyed her a little but smiled reassuringly, “Only if you promise to do the same.” He was only half-joking too. He feared what Ragnar would think of him, abandoning him when Athelstan came back instead of going back to Kattegat. Would he understand that Athelstan had no choice? Athelstan hoped he would like the answer.

Night came. The storm rolled in with a vengeance and Eli finally came and got Athelstan, who had holed himself up in his study with nervous anticipation after talking to Thorunn. They made their way back to the false chapel, where Almund was waiting holding a struggling chicken.

Eli saw the look on Athelstan’s face and said, “It's for the sacrifice, which you'll have to do. You can do that, right?”

Athelstan bared his teeth, “Yeah, I can do that.”

Eli smirked but said nothing. He sat his satchel down and started pulling out the ingredients needed for the spell. Once they were laid out, he gestured for Athelstan to sit before the stone altar with him. Athelstan did.

Eli turned to him, the wind howling and thunder booming in the distance, and said, “You ready?”

Athelstan took a big, unneeded breath then nodded. He took the bowl that Eli laid out and placed the henbane, hemlock, saffron, aloes, mandrake and opium inside it. He closed his eyes and lit it afire with his mind, channeling the elements of nature. Soon, the sickly sweet smell permeated the air and Athelstan got on with the next task. He picked up Eli’s jagged dagger, admiring the chipped hilt for a moment before motioning to Almund to hand over the still struggling in his arms. It seemed to panic even more at the sight of the dagger. Almund left the chapel after handing Athelstan the chicken, his job done.

Athelstan got a good grip on the chicken before holding the dagger aloft and speaking the words that Eli taught him, loud and with purpose. Eli sat back, impressed that Athelstan was seemingly going through this without hesitation. That thought quickly turned him jealous; Athelstan would do anything for Ragnar it seemed.

After speaking the words, before he could be coward, Athelstan held the chicken over the altar and slit its neck, watching as the blood poured out onto the stone altar. The chicken’s blood didn't do anything to tempt him, after two years of strictly feeding on humans, animal blood did nothing for him. He watched as the chicken’s light died out and he stopped struggling.  

The chicken was dead so Athelstan tossed it aside; he spoke some more of the ancient words and took up the dagger again. He held open his palm over the altar and sliced it open, letting his blood mix with the chicken’s. He chanted the words louder now, repeating them over and over until he was shouting over the wind. Thunder boomed, lightning cracked in the sky, angry.

Then suddenly the doors to the fake chapel burst open and the candles all snuffed out.

All was silent for a moment before Athelstan dared, “Did it work?”

“Shh… _look,_ ” Eli seemed amazed as he pointed to the altar.

In the darkness, Athelstan could see the blood transforming, _shaping_ into something— _someone_.

Only, this person seemed small, much smaller than what Ragnar was, and as the blood drained away to flesh, Athelstan saw with perpetual horror why that was.

_It was Gyda_.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise?


	10. TEN

_'It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.'_

_\- Frederick Douglass_

* * *

That couldn't be right.

 

It couldn't be  _ Gyda _ .

 

But it was. 

 

Athelstan, when imagining every scenario in which he successfully did the spell, never imagined  _ this _ . 

 

She was laying atop the altar, eyes closed. She looked the same as she had when Athelstan saw her last, at her burning. She was dressed in her pyre clothing, unburned, and the beautiful wreath still sat nestled in her hair. She looked as if she was sleeping.

 

Her peacefulness didn't last long, however, for just when Athelstan catalogued her features again, for the first time in  _ ten years _ , did she gasp awake.

 

Coming to his senses, Athelstan rushed to her side. He didn't want her to be alone, as the  _ magick _ settled into her bones and made her truly one of the undead. Her little body arched off the altar, in pain unimaginable to her. Athelstan grasped one of her small hands, silently marveling at the warmth when their cold skin touched.

 

Gyda, registering someone touching her, slowly screwed her blue eyes open and locked on to Athelstan’s face.

 

“ _ A-athel-stan? _ ” Gyda ground out, confused and in pain.

 

“ _ Gyda, _ ” Athelstan managed, coming close to tears. He should have never performed the spell.

 

“Wh-what's hap-pening to m-me? Am I in  _ H-hel _ ?”

 

“ _ No!  _ No. You are not in Hel, I promise.” Athelstan tried to reassure her of that fact, when the truth was he wasn't so sure himself.

 

Gyda’s eyes fluttered and her body slowly stopped twitching in pain. The  _ magick  _ must have settled. She was silent for a moment before sniffing the air suddenly, “What's that  _ smell _ ?”

 

Before Athelstan could answer her, she was suddenly up off the altar and out of the still-open doors of the fake chapel. Athelstan sat there in shock for a moment, surprised by Gyda’s quick control of her powers.

 

Eli, who had been watching Gyda transform with growing dismay at the thought of a  _ child strigi _ , leapt up off of the floor when she bolted.

 

“Don't just sit there!” yelled Eli to Athelstan. “Help me find her before she does something  _ brash _ .”

 

Athelstan complied, bolting out the doors behind Eli. They both used their heightened senses to find Gyda easily, but they were already too late. 

 

What she smelled was Almund, who had been sealing a letter shut for Eli after leaving them to do the ritual and his finger slipped, causing a paper cut. He was all the way up in Eli’s solar yet she could still smell the blood from the altar. That's where they found her, ravaging the neck of the now-dead Almund on the floor of Eli’s solar.

 

Eli was enraged. He yanked Gyda up by the hair and threw her with all of his force across the room. She slammed against the wall with a loud thud and crumpled to the floor in a heap, unconscious. Athelstan rushed to her, gathering her limp body in his arms and brushing away the blood that stained her mouth. 

 

“You didn't have to throw her across the room,” accused Athelstan.

 

“Well, she killed Almund so fair’s fair,” replied Eli, who was cleaning up Almund’s body. “Who is  _ she _ anyway? You seem to know her.”

 

Before Athelstan could answer, Thorunn burst into Eli’s solar, having heard the ruckus and fearing the worst; she was brandishing the sword she used when they would practice. What she saw when she entered was something she did not expect.

 

She took in the sight of Almund’s body and Athelstan cradling that little girl in his arms and she asked, “Where's Ragnar? Did the spell work?”

 

Eli sighed, “The spell worked, just not in the way any of us imagined. Athelstan here was about to tell me just who exactly this girl was when you came  _ barging _ in here for battle; so,  _ enlighten us _ , Athelstan.  _ Who is this girl _ ?”

 

Athelstan looked back down at Gyda’s unconscious face in his arms and caressed her cheek before answering, “This is  _ Gyda _ . Ragnar’s daughter.”

 

Eli looked shocked, “He had a  _ daughter _ ?!”

 

Athelstan looked at him, confused, “He never told you that, whenever you compelled him?”

 

“I was asking about you, not about him. It never came up.”

 

Thorunn looked at the girl in Athelstan’s arms, “ _ She's _ Bjorn’s sister? She died a long time ago, I thought, when Bjorn was still a boy.”

 

“Yes, she did. What took her almost took me,” Athelstan replied. He cradled Gyda close to him.

 

“What do we do?” Thorunn finally asked.

 

Eli stood up, having finally cleaned up Almund’s remains, and said, “Since Athelstan is one who got us into this mess, he’ll be the lucky one who gets to teach a  _ child strigi  _ control because without  _ that _ ...we’ll only have more incidents like this one except next time I might not be as  _ forgiving _ .” He sneered at Athelstan before lifting Almund up off the ground like he was nothing and walking out of the solar.

 

Thorunn stepped by and allowed him to pass. Once Eli was out of the room, she walked over to Athelstan and sat beside him, staring at Gyda.

 

“How'd it happen?” Thorunn whispered eventually.

 

Athelstan shook his head, “I don't know. I followed every instruction Eli gave me, down to the last letter…”

 

“Perhaps this means Ragnar isn't dead, if the spell brought someone back that wasn't him,” Thorunn suggested.

 

“Perhaps,” allowed Athelstan. He didn't want to think about Ragnar right now. What would he say to Athelstan, now that he'd  _ damned _ his beloved daughter. And now, he'd done the spell. He brought someone back. He'd have to wait another thousand years to bring Ragnar back. That thought was scaring him, so he focused on caressing Gyda’s face.

 

Thorunn looked at Gyda, thinking. Then she finally said, “Let’s take her to one of the bedrooms, so she can wake up comfortably.”

 

Athelstan agreed and stood up with her in his arms. She was as light as a feather in his arms, with or without his supernatural strength. He carried her into one of the many spare bedrooms in the castle, and placed her upon the silken bed and drew the curtains, just until he convinced Eli to give her a  _ sun _ ring, as he called it in his mind. Thorunn left Athelstan to watch over Gyda after she was laid upon the bed.

 

She looked like she did when she was laying on that pyre, dead except she now looked  _ strigi _ . The transformation had officially set in upon her feeding on human blood. She looked like the rest of them, clear skinned, marble like texture except it was soft to the touch, and slightly red rimmed eyes. She was also a  _ child. _

 

Athelstan was scared of the implications of this, a  _ child strigi _ . Would she ever be able to control her bloodlust? Athelstan wondered if her mind would be able to change as she grew older, at least in years. Or would she be forever stuck in the mind of a child? Athelstan felt as if he'd just placed a curse her. 

 

_ Poor Gyda. _

 

Athelstan watched Gyda until she finally regained consciousness. As she fluttered her blue eyes, so like Ragnar, Athelstan couldn't help but smile at her. He'd always had a soft spot for Gyda, no matter how much he used to tell Bjorn he didn't. 

 

_ Bjorn _ .

 

God, Athelstan missed that kid. He missed all of them. 

 

_ Ragnar _ ,  _ Lagertha, and Bjorn _ .

 

He missed the farm days, even though in the early days he hated it, he really grew to love himself there and seeing Gyda only reminded himself of that. 

 

Gyda, upon seeing Athelstan’s face and his smile, couldn't help but smile back, despite her memories of the last night that came rushing back. Her smile then soon quickly faded and confusion came.

 

“What happened? Why did I hurt that man? I'm supposed to be  _ dead _ ,” Gyda implored.

 

Athelstan stopped smiling. He searched Gyda’s face a second before asking, “Gyda, I’ll answer any questions you might have, but first,  _ what do you remember _ ?”

 

“I remember  _ dying _ of that fever,” answered Gyda. “You were sick too...did you die?”

 

“No,” said Athelstan. “I didn't die until much later.”

 

“Am I still dead?” questioned Gyda. “I can hear all these sounds but I can't hear my heartbeat…”

 

_ ‘How do I explain this?!’  _ bemoaned Athelstan inside his head.

 

“Well, yes, you are dead but...you are also alive,” Athelstan explained hesitantly. “You exist in the  _ in _ - _ between _ , like me.”

 

Gyda nodded, absorbing and then asked, “But why did I kill that man?”

 

“Because you were hungry. We require... _ human blood... _ in order to survive.”

 

“Why?”

 

“...I don't know,” answered Athelstan truthfully.

 

They sat in silence for a moment, Gyda still processing everything. She took in her surroundings and asked, “Where are Mother and Father?”

 

Athelstan had been dreading this question. He swallowed, then said, “They are far away. We are no longer in Kattegat.”

 

“Where are we?”

 

“England.”

 

“ _ England _ ?” started Gyda. “Your homeland?”

 

Athelstan cracked a sorrowful smile, “England hasn't been my home in a long time.”

 

“Why'd you leave Mother and Father?” Gyda asked.

 

Athelstan sighed, “I didn't have much of a choice. Like you, I  _ died _ .”

 

“How?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“How'd you die?”

 

“Gyda…” Athelstan hesitated. 

 

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” conceded Gyda.

 

“Maybe one day I'll tell you, when you’re older…” Athelstan trailed off that thought.

 

“Can we go back?”

 

“To Kattegat?”

 

Gyda nodded. She looked hopeful; Athelstan didn't want to crush her dreams.

 

“I...don't think so,” Athelstan settled finally.

 

Gyda looked down at her hands, “Oh.”

 

Athelstan, not wanting to see that look upon her face, grasped one of her hands in his own and said, “We’ll have each other. I promise you, Gyda, I will protect you, from now until my dying day.”

 

Gyda looked at him, her eyes shining, “I believe you, Athelstan.”

 

They sat there in silence, each gathering comfort from the other’s presence until Gyda couldn't hold it in any longer and said, “Athelstan?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“ _ I'm hungry _ ."

* * *

Athelstan left Gyda in the room with promises of food when he returned. He went and got Thorunn, who in the early morning was training with her sword. He asked her to go and give Gyda some company while he convinced Eli to get her some food and a sun ring. Thorunn agreed, setting down her sword and shield and heading up into the castle towards Gyda. Athelstan suspected they'd have much to talk about while he was preoccupied with Eli.

 

He found Eli with his guardsmen, burying the body of Almund in an unmarked grave outside the castle. 

 

Eli cast him a look as he approached, still seemingly upset over what had transpired with Gyda.

 

“I take it she has awakened?” Eli asked at last as they stood there, watching the guardsmen dig Almund's grave.

 

“Yes,” answered Athelstan. “And she's...hungry.”

 

Eli scoffed, “Of course she is. A  _ child  _ and a newborn  _ strigi _ ? You have cursed us all.”

 

Athelstan said nothing.

 

Eli turned to him at his silence and said, “I suppose you want my help?”

 

Athelstan struggled to make the words come out, “Is there anybody... _ down there _ ...she can have?” He was referring to the castle’s deep dungeons, were Eli held many people captive, as a means to their meals.

 

Eli raised his brows at this, “You want her to feed again, so soon?”

 

“I don't want her to go hungry.”

 

“Unlike you, who in those early days refrained from the very thing that gave you new life.”

 

Athelstan looked away, remembering when he fasted without human blood in the very beginning of his newborn stage. He still is not quite sure how he managed to go so long without a drop of blood,  _ five whole days _ , which was a long time when you are a newborn. Athelstan feared that Gyda, being a child, could not possibly go that long without sustenance, at least not now. 

 

Eli and Athelstan both stayed silent, watching as the guardsmen threw the body of Almund into the hole in the ground. 

 

Eli did not speak again until the guardsman started piling dirt on top of Almund's body. He sighed and said finally, “I’ll bring her someone myself. We need to meet officially anyways.”

 

Athelstan nodded but was weary inside. How was Eli going to treat Gyda? Athelstan didn't think he could stand it if he harassed her but all Athelstan could do was wait until the time came. Athelstan was about to ask his second question,  _ another  _ favor to ask of Eli when his ears pricked up the sound of someone screaming in pain. Athelstan, Eli, and the guardsmen all stood to attention at the sound, all having heard it with their enhanced hearing. 

 

Athelstan burst into a run back towards the castle, for he recognized the voice. 

 

It was Gyda.

 

She was in pain and Athelstan had to stop it, immediately. He was vaguely aware of footsteps running behind him as he sped back into the castle and up into the room where he left Gyda.

 

There he found her, sitting on the floor by firmly closed curtains. Thorunn was cradling her in her arms, soothing her. Athelstan rushed to them, seeing as Gyda’s face was slowly healing itself from some very severe burns.

 

“What happened?” demanded Athelstan. He tentatively reached for Gyda and she willingly placed herself in his arms, whimpering from the pain as her face healed.

 

Thorunn sat back and explained, “We were talking when Gyda got up and started walking around the room. Before I could stop her, she opened the curtains, letting the sun in. I suppose you didn't tell her about that part?”

 

Athelstan felt ashamed and cradled Gyda’s face, watching as it began to heal itself more quickly, soon fading away and leaving her face unblemished once more. Gyda stopped whimpering and tentatively touched her face, amazed at how smooth it was again.

 

“Why did that happen?” she asked Athelstan.

 

“It's because you don't have a  _ sun  _ ring,” answered a voice from the doorway of the room. 

 

It was Eli. He was speaking Gyda’s language; in fact, they had all slipped back into Old Norse when they talked with Gyda. Athelstan was pleased that he still spoke it rather fluently. 

 

Athelstan, in his rush to get to Gyda, didn't notice Eli following behind him, wanting to see what all the ruckus was about. As Eli looked at Gyda, a helpless  _ child strigi  _ with only Athelstan to guide her, he formed a plan.

 

Gyda looked up from her place in Athelstan’s arms and asked, “What is a... _ sun  _ ring?” She struggled with the word in Old Norse, she'd never heard it before.

 

“It's what will allow you to walk in the sunlight without being burned,” answered Eli.

 

Athelstan turned to Eli, still on the floor with Gyda in his arms and said, “Will you make her one then?”

 

Eli pretended to consider this for a moment before he says, “I will, as long as Gyda promises me something in return.”

 

Athelstan bit back a snarl, of course there was always a price for Eli’s generosity.

 

Gyda turned solemn, “What should I promise?”

 

“That you’ll participate in lessons  _ with me _ , on everything you need to know about blending in here,” Eli said.

 

Athelstan didn't like the sound of that. Lessons with Eli? He knew what Eli was planning. He wanted a prodigy. A  _ child _ prodigy. And Athelstan could do nothing but agree. Gyda deserved to walk in the sunlight. Athelstan was tempted to try and sway Eli to make the deal with a different promise, maybe one that involved Athelstan’s body, that way, Gyda wouldn't be at the mercy of Eli, but Athelstan couldn't do that there, not with Thorunn and Gyda watching. 

 

“Lessons?” Gyda questioned. “On what?”

 

“Well, I suppose I'll have Thorunn help you with lessons on being a lady, but I'll teach you  _ the other _ stuff.  _ Strigi _ things.”

 

“ _ Strigi _ ?” 

 

“That's what you are now. A  _ strigi _ . And I will teach you all the finer points to becoming the best.”

 

Athelstan twitched at his words but kept silent. He watched as Gyda absorbed Eli’s words and seemed to think on her answer. The whole room was silent as she thought until she finally spoke up:

 

“ _ I agree _ .”

 

Eli smiled that wicked smile and the feeling of dread grew inside Athelstan’s stomach. 

 

“ _ Good _ .”

* * *

Eli, after having his answer from Gyda, sent his guardsmen to bring her a meal while he went and  _ magicked _ a ring for her so she could walk in the sun.

 

Her ring was different from Athelstan and Thorunn’s, much simpler with wirework that wound itself into a circle in the middle of the ring. Gyda took the ring with a sort of reverence as it was passed from Eli to Athelstan to her. She placed it on her pointer finger, admiring the craftsmanship.

 

Under the direction of Eli, Gyda fed on the prisoner that was brought up by the guardsmen. At first she was hesitant to approach the man, but under Eli’s urging Athelstan watched hopelessly as she latched onto the neck of the prisoner and sucked him dry, lapping up any remnants. Athelstan’s couldn't help but be disturbed at the blood smeared around her mouth. 

 

_ Life wasn't supposed to go this way _ .

 

The prisoner slumped to the floor, dead and Gyda seemed to have snapped out of whatever trance she had entered once she heard the blood pumping through that prisoner’s body at Eli’s urging. Coming back to herself, she looked slightly disturbed as she wiped her mouth of the blood. She watched the guardsmen haul the body away but didn't say anything. 

 

“There! That should satiate you for a day or two,” Eli stated, walking towards the door of the room. “We’ll begin your lessons tomorrow.” And with that he left the room, shutting the door and leaving Athelstan alone with Gyda.

 

Athelstan was silent for a moment before asking, “Are you alright?”

 

Gyda, still standing in her spot, looked down at her hands gripping her dress that she was still wearing from her burning, all those years ago. She slowly looked up to Athelstan and he saw the sadness there but also the resignation. Athelstan knew those emotions well. 

 

Finally she spoke, “It gets easier, afterwards. Right?”

 

Athelstan was unsure of how to answer. It  _ had  _ gotten easier for him, to kill and feel nothing. No guilt, no pain. But it wasn't always like that. Sometimes he felt like he was drowning under all the guilt he felt, that covered up with that mask. 

 

Gyda spoke on, as if she hadn't asked Athelstan a question, “I will be like Mother and Father, learn how to kill without remorse. Eli can teach me that, right?”

 

Athelstan ignored the screaming in his head that told him to grab Gyda and run away, far away from Eli’s evil influence but he knew he was already in too deep and so was Gyda. Athelstan had damned them both and he couldn't do anything about it but accept it and move on. But that was hard when the side of him that pushed for honor and nobility fought against the side of him that wanted bloodshed and violence, exactly what Eli would wrought upon them Athelstan was sure. 

 

Finally he said, “Yes, Eli can teach you those things.”

 

Gyda grew silent again until she suddenly walked up to Athelstan and wrapped her arms around his body, pulling him in for hug. Athelstan placed his arms around her, taking comfort in her presence. 

 

“I'm glad I'm here with you,” mumbled Gyda into Athelstan’s dark blue tunic.

 

Athelstan laughed softly and ran a hand through Gyda’s dark blonde locks. She leaned into his touch, smiling to herself. 

 

“I'm glad you’re here too,” whispered Athelstan as he bent down and placed a light kiss atop her head. He'd never done that to her before, only showing small displays of affection towards her but he figured she needed some familial love.

 

Gyda tightened her grip on Athelstan and they held each other like that until one of them finally pulled away. Athelstan saw some blood gathered in the corners of Gyda’s eyes; she was about to cry. 

 

He placed a hand on the side of her face and said, “I promised you that I would protect you and I meant it. Don't cry, for I'll always be there for you Gyda, I swear it.”  

 

Gyda smiled and placed her small hand atop his, “I know.”

 

Athelstan stayed with Gyda all night, keeping her company. Neither of them really wanted to be alone. They talked of many things, Gyda filling Athelstan in on what she and Thorunn had been discussing before Gyda accidentally burned herself. They mostly had talked about her brother, Bjorn, although Athelstan suspected Thorunn didn't tell Gyda the whole story as to why she was with them and not with Bjorn, in fact Athelstan wasn't sure  _ he  _ knew the whole story; Thorunn had been mum on that subject after Eli had compelled her. Athelstan knew she still thought about him and the child she left behind. She’d get that same look that Gyda got on her face, thinking of her brother. She was proud of him for becoming the warrior he'd always dreamed of being, she was just sad she wasn't there to see it herself.

 

In the morning, Eli came and fetched Gyda for her first lesson, seemingly not surprised to see Athelstan still there as he left him. Gyda parted Athelstan with a small smile, still clad in her funeral dress, which Athelstan heard Eli comment they were going to fix straightaway.

 

It became apparent to Athelstan quite quickly that Eli seemed to take on Gyda as a sort of... _ protégé _ . He had the seamstress dress her in the finest of gowns made for someone of her status. He personally presided over Thorunn’s lessons with her, making sure they never strayed from the path of the subject. He also, to Athelstan’s dismay, began training her in the art of weaponry. He said she was useless to him if she didn't know how to fight, so fight she did. She was very nimble, given her size, quickly discovering to use her size and newfound speed to her advantage.

 

Soon, under Eli’s guidance, she was beginning to take down guards two times her size. Athelstan was impressed but horrified at the prospect of Gyda actually seeing the heat of battle. He owed it to Ragnar to protect her, considering it was he who got Gyda in this mess in the first place.

 

Gyda flourished under Eli’s guidance, acclimating quickly to the role of a lady, having already been soft-spoken and sweet in her past life. 

 

But there was a deadliness to her too. A deadliness Eli liked to bring out.

 

The first time Athelstan saw it in full force was in one of Eli’s early fighting lessons with her. Athelstan always made himself watch, to ensure Gyda stayed safe against Eli’s skill.

 

Eli was knocking Gyda down over and over again, and it appeared, as he mocked as she fell, that she was getting angry. And anger, in the case of a  _ strigi,  _ was a very dangerous thing.

 

Eli grabbed the hand that Gyda swung at him and twisted it away, making her cry out. He held out a hand to stop Athelstan from intervening. There was no way she could learn if he fought her battles for her.

 

“Too slow! Again!” mocked Eli. He let go of her arm and threw her to the ground. “You are _the great_ Ragnar Lothbrok’s daughter, _act like it_.” Eli's words were filled with malice, intentionally trying to hurt her.

 

And it worked.

 

She landed on her face, and soon she was spitting blood. She looked up, her face tense with anger. Athelstan watched as something boiled over within her and for the first time the demon that was within her too took over. Her eyes morphed into black sclera and red irises. She bared her teeth and growled. In a blur, she was on her feet, advancing towards Eli. Eli smirked and waited until she was close before throwing a punch. 

 

She dodged it. She dodged the next one too, swinging down low before lashing out at his feet in an unexpected low sweep. How she learned to do that, so quickly, was impressive. Athelstan watched in amazement as she took Eli off guard and knocked him on his back. She jumped on top of him, snapping her fangs in his face. Eli looked surprised for a moment before making a hard face and throwing her off of him.

 

She landed on her feet, a few feet away. Her eyes slowly bled away from the black and red as she came back to herself. Eli sat up from being sprawled on the dirt ground and huffed. Athelstan and Thorunn both clapped congratulations to Gyda, much to Eli’s displeasure. 

 

Gyda took their congratulations with a shy look to Athelstan before turning to Eli. She held out a hand to the still-sitting Eli. He looked at it a moment before deciding to take it, letting her haul him to her feet.

 

He brushed off his earlier unhappiness and clapped Gyda on the back, saying, “Well done,  _ matok _ . I believe you've advanced in your lessons faster than those two.” He eyed Athelstan and Thorunn playfully.

 

“It must have something to do with me being  _ the great  _ Ragnar Lothbrok’s daughter,” said Gyda slyly.

 

Eli gave her a dirty eye while Athelstan smirked. He loved to see others take Eli down a peg or two, not just himself.

 

Gyda was an excellent student, picking up the language of land in only a few short months, amongst other things. But she still struggled. Mostly with her hunger. 

 

More than once, Athelstan or Eli had to pull her away from the human staff, especially when they bled. Athelstan and Eli learned quickly that, under the spell of bloodlust, Gyda would charm her way into tasting the blood, under the pretense of “kissing it better”. If they didn't catch her quick enough, she'd be making quick work of her victim, draining them dry. They'd had to replace three servants since she was brought back, not including poor Almund. The only reason the human staff wasn't afraid of her was because Eli had long ago compelled them to forget any  _ strange _ behavior.

 

Gyda confessed to Athelstan late one night, as they sat on her bed and talked of the day's events (which they did often), that she didn't know why she said things like that. She just... _ did. _

 

Athelstan said nothing, but deep down he knew why. It was the demon side of her, with all of her childlike sweetness, using any opportunity to get what it wanted— _ blood _ .

 

He didn't say anything like that to Gyda, however. He didn't want to trouble her. She was doing so well in every other aspect of her new life. 

 

She'd been living with them for only a few short months but Athelstan knew with the combined efforts of him, Thorunn, Eli, and the household staff, they were positively spoiling her. Eli showered her with gifts in the forms of gowns and dolls, Thorunn herself taking her aside and teaching her the basics of wielding a sword (a  _ small  _ sword), and Athelstan tried to spend as much time as possible with her, when she wasn't in lessons.

 

They'd spend time together, talking in her room aforementioned or they'd do other activities, like strolling through the castle’s garden. Gyda loved to gaze and smell at all the different types of flora. Athelstan would surprise her as often as he could with fresh picked flowers from the garden, her favorites being marigolds and primroses, whenever she'd end her lessons for the day. 

 

He did this many times, but every time the same look of sweet surprise would cross her face at the sight of the sweet smelling flowers. She'd always take them from his hand with a look of reverence and she'd place them in a vase beside her canopy bed. The moment they'd die, Athelstan would pick some more, always keeping her bedside decorated.

 

Athelstan showered Gyda with love and attention and she quickly latched onto him, the only familiar person in her whole new world. This resulted in some awkward happenings in the beginning, when Gyda tried sneak into what she presumed to be Athelstan’s room and found Eli there, in bed with him. Athelstan didn't know what she thought of the obvious noises that came from his room late at night, as she said nothing. 

 

Athelstan couldn't deny, as those first months with Gyda back, he found himself feeling something akin to  _ happiness  _ again. He didn't know what to do with that emotion; he felt like he definitely didn't deserve it, especially when it came to being with Gyda. He still didn't know if she knew the whole story to her accidental raising. What would she think of him then? Knowing her whole damnation was his fault, all because he couldn't be alone. 

 

Well, he got his wish. 

 

Just not in the way he expected, with Gyda. 


	11. ELEVEN

_'He only earns his freedom and his life Who takes them every day by storm.'_

_\- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

* * *

The years passed.

Athelstan, Gyda, and Thorunn continued to grow into their respective roles.

Athelstan had become a distinguished gentleman, his mask being held firmly in place. He focused his time, when he wasn't training in swords or  _ magick _ , on literature and art. He filled journal after journal with beautiful poems and drawings, mostly of family and friends. 

He'd never forget the look of Gyda’s face when he gave her a drawing of her brother, Bjorn. 

She stared at the charcoal for hours, memorizing the lines of his face. She was mesmerized by the detail of what Bjorn had grown up to look like. With glee, she showed the portrait to Thorunn but soon pulled it away because of the look on Thorunn’s face. 

Thorunn continued her practicing her swordsmanship, becoming quite the skilled warrior. She kept up with her lady duties, mostly to keep Eli at bay but she continued to exude the practices she'd learned. Many visiting noblemen were quite enamored with her vivaciousness. She soon had many noblemen admirers but she was never settled with one. She was still haunted by Bjorn and her daughter. But she kept stringing them along, finding it amusing at their desperation. She felt powerful as the men trembled nervously around her and she liked it. The demon part of them started to affect all of their personalities. 

Gyda had become quite the little lady, charming everyone she met with her sweet smile. A smile that hid a deadly appetite. Sadly, over the years, her appetite had waned only a little making her quite the killer, but she tried to take Eli’s advice and feel no guilt, thinking her parents would teach her the same lesson. She found solace in Athelstan’s company, finding that he had a lot of experience with covering up demons.

Eli tried several times to acclimate Gyda into larger hosts of humans, throwing party after party. For long while, Gyda had trouble, finding herself more than once taking a bite out of her neighbor, causing alarm and forcing Athelstan and the others to compel the visitors into forgetting everything they'd witnessed and then sending them on their way, only to try again a few months later. 

Every time Gyda would slip up, Eli would become enraged and more often than not, throw her into her room and locking the door with all sorts of  _ magicks _ till she was starved for a few days. 

Those days were torture for Athelstan. He'd sit outside her door for hours and talk to her, so she'd stop her weeping. When Eli would finally let her out, Athelstan would always be waiting with fresh bouquet of flowers. Eli would scoff at him and sneer that he'd spoiling Gyda, worse than he or Thorunn, but Athelstan never listened. 

One time, when Eli had finally let Gyda out of her room after another botched attempt at getting Gyda to behave, instead of greeting Athelstan with a hug, Gyda sped out past him and his bouquet of flowers. Athelstan could hear her sobbing as she ran out of the castle. He held Eli back and followed her, down the crags and onto the sand of the beach. There she stood, her light blue dress getting soaked at the hem where she stood, her bare feet in the water. She was staring out at sea, blood tears streaming down her face. Athelstan stood behind her in silence, waiting for her to speak first. 

Finally she asked, “Will it ever get easier? Will Eli always lock me away when I do wrong?”

Athelstan wanted to assuage her fears. He came up beside her, allowing for his leather shoes to be soaked. 

“If you are anything like your parents, you will prevail over this.” Athelstan answered.

Gyda gave him a small smile but then asked, “But how?”

Athelstan thought for a second, “Perhaps we should start out small, acclimate you to the groups of the staff here. Maybe throw a small gathering for the staff where you can sit and entertain with them first, before moving on to noblemen of the area.”

Gyda thought about this before saying tentatively, “That might work…”

Athelstan grabbed Gyda’s hand, “It  _ will _ work. I promise you, we will get through this. I'm  _ swear it _ .”

Gyda looked down at their joined hands and her face grew embarrassed. She slowly untangled their hands but continued to stand next to him in the water. They both looked out to the sea, silent and thinking, Gyda scrubbing the blood away from her face, until suddenly, Athelstan felt himself drenched on the left side of his body. Gyda, in a quick move, had splashed Athelstan with seawater in a moment of mischievousness. Athelstan stared at her for a moment in seeming shock before smiling mischievously himself and quickly reaching down and splashing back. They ended the day coming back to the castle, soaked to the bone but happy. And Gyda had a newfound determination to defeat her bloodlust.

And she did. 

_ Mostly _ .

Through some  _ convincing _ , Athelstan was able to get Eli to throw a small gathering for the human staff, having Gyda be the one to entertain them with beautiful songs from her harp; she'd been taking lessons from a man Eli had hired and had become quite good. She played for the staff beautifully, focusing on her music instead of her bloodlust. Athelstan could tell when the bloodlust was becoming too much, for she plucked her harp harder and faster but she never stopped to take a bite. 

Athelstan was very proud. When she struck her last note of the evening, he was clapping the hardest for her, daring himself to smile and feel actual joy. 

After her evening entertaining the servants proved successful, Eli dared to try again with inviting the noblemen over. Athelstan felt as if he and the others were holding their breath the entire evening, waiting for the pin to drop. But Gyda grit her teeth and actually did hold her breath, and made it through the night. She smiled and charmed everyone with her sweetness. The compelled noblemen had no idea of her past actions.

Once the last guest was gone in their carriage, Eli in an odd sort of elation, pulled Gyda and the others back into the great hall, where he pushed the tables against the walls and called up his musicians. He ordered them to strike up a song, and then he was dancing around the room with Gyda, singing loudly to the music. 

Despite herself, Gyda found herself giggling as they spun around the room. Athelstan and Thorunn watched next to the tables and clapped along. Soon, the other servants were drawn near to the music. Eli was in such a good mood at Gyda’s accomplishment, he ordered the servants to join them and the room was quickly filled with the sounds of happy, dancing people. The servants had no idea what they were celebrating, but they didn't need to hear a reason. Athelstan knew, however, and this event cemented an idea that had been brewing in Athelstan's head for awhile. 

Gyda pulled herself away from Eli and danced over to Athelstan, who was still standing and watching. Thorunn had gone off to dance on her own, much to the happiness of the guardsmen who watched her move with wide eyes. Gyda grabbed Athelstan’s hands and pulled him in, his head shaking all the while. But he didn't pull away. He didn't  notice certain eyes on him, watching him and Gyda jealously. Eyes that see something Athelstan doesn't.

* * *

 

More years go by. Some thing’s change, and some don't.

Eli still tried to claim Athelstan’s body as often as he could, much to Athelstan’s distaste but he stayed true to his word and never gave into his demon side. Unfortunately the demon liked to rear its head in other times, especially when they fed. As the years passed, Athelstan had become...accustomed...to feeding and killing. He stopped feeling really anything when it came down to it, for it happened far too often for him to just ignore the sensations. So instead, he felt nothing. And he saw Gyda do it too. He saw the numb look in Gyda’s eye as she would bite down into her meal; it was easier that way. 

Once Gyda was able to handle being around humans in larger capacities, Eli decided that they (Athelstan, Eli, Thorunn, and Gyda) should begin hunting together. Going places for their meals instead of bringing them home to rot in the dungeons until they were hungry. Athelstan didn't like hunting, for he felt the demon’s thrill whenever he made a kill and it frightened him. 

Athelstan watched as his new _ family  _ grew in strength, because that's what it was, what Eli wanted—a  _ family _ . Athelstan figured it out, that night when he danced with Gyda. He broached the subject one evening, after Eli had finished having his way with him. 

Eli was lounging in the bed, looking content at what had just happened. Athelstan gazed at his face, studying him and gauging whether or not he should bring it up. Looking at Eli’s contented face, he dared.

“I've finally figured you out,” Athelstan declared out loud.

Eli looked over to Athelstan, raising a dark brow, “Really?”

Athelstan continued, “I know why you picked me, why you picked Thorunn, why you allow Gyda to stay and shower her with gifts.”

Eli turned fully to face Athelstan in bed, propping his head on his hand, “Enlighten me, please.”

“You desire a  _ family _ ,” voiced Athelstan. He spoke the words calmly and matter-of-factly, for he was sure of them.

Eli gazed at Athelstan for a moment in silence, before bursting into laughter, “A  _ family _ ? Why would I want a family?”

“Because your true family is horrible, if what you told me about them is true. You desire to have a happy family, a real family.”

Eli scoffed and looked away, “I can be happy anywhere, with anyone. I'm _charming_.” He smirked his devious smile.

Athelstan shook his head, “You can deny it, but we both know the truth.”

Eli’s gaze turned sharp, and his smirk fell . He glared a moment before asking in an icy voice, “And how does that make you feel, if what you said was true?”

Athelstan regarded him a moment before saying, “It makes me feel sad, for  _ you _ —”

Eli scoffed again.

The demon suddenly rose up inside Athelstan, deep and vindictive and he spat the rest of his sentence, “—Because I will  _ never _ be your family.”

Eli flashed out a hand and wrapped it tightly around Athelstan’s throat, “ _ Careful _ , watch what you say around me.”

Athelstan struggled with his words, “The—demon—”

Eli rolled his eyes and tightened his grip, making Athelstan choke, “I would really be delighted if you stopped blaming every bad thing you do on ‘the demon’! I have an interesting message for you: _the_ _demon_ _isn't real_. It's just a manifestation of your darker side. So everything you do, good or bad, it's _all_ you. Being a _strigi_ heightened every aspect of you.”

Athelstan didn't want to listen. He choked out, “ _ Lies _ .”

Eli laughed, “Now who’s the one who’s in denial?”

* * *

Gyda and Athelstan still spent as much time together as they could, with Gyda listening enraptured at tales he would tell about his adventures with Eli in the realms of  _ magick _ . Athelstan didn't see the looks she gave him, as they evolved into something  _ more _ as she grew older, or at least mentally. Physically she stayed the same, much to Gyda’s dismay.

She came to Athelstan in tears one night, one rare night when Eli was away from the castle. She found Athelstan in his study, as always scratching away in a journal. Gyda fell upon his arms in flurry of sobs. Startled, he held her until she finally calmed down to tell him her sorrows. 

Hiccuping, she said, “I-I am st-still a  _ child _ ! I am not gro-growing  _ older _ !”

Athelstan rubbed her back, having been fearing when this would happen, when she would finally notice. It took seven years. 

He took a deep breath and grabbed Gyda by the arms, steadying her, “Gyda, I have to tell you something, something I should I have told you before, when you first... _ came here _ .”

Gyda looked at him through bloody eyes and stilled herself, bracing for his words.

Athelstan steeled himself a moment before saying, “You aren't aging, yes. In fact none of us are aging. We live forever, yes, but in the states in which we died...which in your case is—”

“ _ A child _ ,” Gyda whispered brokenly.

Athelstan nodded.

Gyda sobbed once more and she clung to him, burying her bloody face in his neck, “It’s not true! It’s not true!”

But when she looked back up into Athelstan’s face, she knew his words were true. For his own face remained unchanged through the years, as it should have aged. He still looked  _ young _ . 

Athelstan whispered sweet words of courage in her ear, promising such sweet things. Gyda took his words and gathered her courage. She could survive this, if Athelstan was always with her. 

She dried her eyes and finally gave Athelstan a small smile, “You are always there for me, Athelstan.”

Athelstan smiled back, “ _ Always _ .”

* * *

 

Eli continued to teach Athelstan the art of  _ magick.  _ They had moved on to levitation and controlling the elements.

Athelstan excelled in every lesson to Eli’s not so secret jealousy. Athelstan was able to levitate tables and chair effortlessly, even once levitating Eli slightly off the ground, just for fun.

He also found he had an affinity to calling on the lighting. More than once, when he and Eli would have a row, lighting would crackle around him, angry as he was. 

It wouldn't deter Eli, however, for he had control over fire and would lash it at him, until he stopped crackling. Gyda would come rushing in, always comforting Athelstan with sweet words. She’d glare at Eli and pull Athelstan away, his lighting long settled.

He spent a lot of time trying to control his powers, becoming moderately good at if as the years passed. He was able to call on the elements at will, but he didn't do it often. He still tried to act as noble and normal as possible unless a situation called for it. 

For those ten years that passed since Athelstan had been raised, he found himself feeling very much changed. They all were.

They were all very accomplished, much to jealousness of the other noblemen and women. They were the envy of everyone, all beautiful and perfect to the outsiders eyes. 

It was easier to hunt that way, they were all incredibly charming. By the tenth year, Athelstan found himself completely used to the killing, when it was necessary. It no longer bothered him. He was completely numb to the feeling. And the dark side of him reveled in it. 

He found himself oddly happy times though. In fact they all did. He still despised Eli but he came to tolerate his company, unless he got too unbearable. With Gyda it was easier. She was his constant companion through everything.

He found himself incredibly sad at sometimes too, for he knew he had to wait another thousand years until he could attempt to bring Ragnar back. Some days he didn’t know if he could do it, wait that long. But he had no other choice. He was basically invincible. And when he looked at Gyda sometimes things weren’t so bad, for she reminded him so much of Ragnar. She would always ask him and her mom, about how they were after she died. He told her as many happy stories as he could, keeping the dark ones away. But he did tell her about her parent’s divorce and held her hand as she tried not to cry. She always put on a brave face, like Ragnar. 

Everyone had seemed to settle into their life at the castle as best they could.

But then one day, everything changed.

All because of what Gyda saw one night in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is short, i promise the next one will be longer :)


	12. TWELVE

_'War seems to come out of nowhere, like rust that suddenly pops up on iron after a storm.'_

_\- Victor Davis Hanson_

* * *

The day started out normal enough. It was a beautiful spring day and Gyda wanted to spend the day outside. She finished her chores of weaving at the loom in record time and soon was running through the halls of castle, down the stone steps and out into the castle’s yard. It was a rare day when the sun was shining, not a cloud in sight. 

A perfect day. 

She saw Athelstan in the training yard, fighting hard and fast. She spent a moment admiring how his body moved in smooth motions before shaking herself out of her reverie. She walked up to the post that separated the castle’s yard from the training yard. 

She called out to Athelstan, “Athelstan!”

Athelstan swung his sword around and caught the guardsmen with his foot, tripping him to the ground before holding the sword to his throat. They both stood there a moment before smiling at each other and Athelstan helped the guardsmen up. 

He turned to Gyda, sword still in hand, and said, “Yes, my sweet sister?” Eli had begun to insist that they keep up the appearance of family, no matter where they were. He said it made it a habit, so they wouldn't slip up and blow their story. Athelstan only smirked when he made that announcement to him, Thorunn, and Gyda. He was right about Eli wanting a family, even if he didn't admit it out loud.

Gyda giggled and leaned against the post, “I want to go exploring the woods. Come with me?”

Athelstan sighed, “Gyda, I cannot. I have lessons with Eli today, you know that.”

Gyda looked down at her hands, admonished, “I understand.”

She suddenly looked up, bright as if his words didn't sting, “Then I shall go alone.”

Athelstan didn't like that idea, “I do not think that would be wise.”

Gyda sighed, “What could possibly hurt me?”

Athelstan thought for a moment then sighed, “I suppose you can—”

Gyda smiled in happiness.

“—But  _ do not  _ wander far, and be back before nightfall.”

Gyda leaned over the post and got up on her tiptoes to kiss Athelstan’s cheek and then said, “I promise.”

Then she ran off in the direction of the garden, she wanted to pick fresh flowers to create a beautiful crown upon her long flowing blonde locks. She kept it down, with only small braids atop her head. Thorunn liked to have her hair braided like the other noblewomen, finding the intricate knots familiar to the ones from home.

Gyda picked her favorite flowers, the marigolds and primroses, and began weaving them into her flower crown, sitting in amongst the flowers. Once she was done, she placed it on top of her head before heading to the stables. 

There she saw  _ Renhet* _ , her pony that Eli had gifted her last spring. She was quite attached to her. Renhet was a beautiful white horse, with silky hair that Gyda loved to run a hand through. Gyda took good care of her horse, often taking her out to ride around the castle or into the woods, with company. 

This would be the first time Gyda was riding out alone into the forest, but she was not afraid. She had always been a headstrong girl, just like her parents. 

She rode out of the castle, not realizing the time. It was late afternoon, and the moon was already rising but Gyda paid no mind. She wanted to ride through the woods and feel the wind in her hair.

The moment she passed through the gate with a wave to the guards, she clicked her heels into Renhet, and was galloping off, down the path and into the woods. She galloped around for long time, just enjoying the feeling as if she was flying. They jumped over fallen trees and galloped fast through the foliage. Finally they stopped when she spotted a little ravine, where Renhet could replenish her thirst, while Gyda stroked her hair before sitting down next to the water.

Gyda stared at her reflection in the deep blue water. She had seen her reflection many times, always looking at it with disappointment as she saw that she remained unchanged. 

Still a child.

She sighed and looked away, adjusting the flower crown on her head. Renhet had finished drinking from the ravine and was looking at Gyda expectantly.

She smiled and got up from her place next to the ravine and patted Renhet on the neck, “Alright, Renhet. We’ll continue on.”

She swung herself up onto the horse swiftly and then cast a look to the sky.

“Oh no,” she said aloud. The sun was setting. The moon was full in the sky.

She had promised Athelstan she’d be back before nightfall, and it was closing in.

 

She leaned down to whisper in Renhet’s ear, “Let’s go back, Renhet.”

They turned away and made their way back to the main road when suddenly the quiet forest was pierced through with a anguished cry. 

Renhet reared up and Gyda quickly soothed her, turning her head this way and that, searching for the position of the noise. She was hesitant to follow, what if they were bleeding? Gyda had become quite good at controlling her bloodlust but if there was a lot of blood involved, she didn’t want to think about what she’d might do. But her curiosity and kindness won over, and she lead Renhet around to find the source of the scream.

And she did, once night had fully come. The only light was the full moon in the sky, shining through the trees. She heard the screams again, still anguished and she followed them, until she found the screamer.

It was a man.

He was naked from the waist up, his muscles rippling in the moonlight. Gyda couldn’t help but stare. He seemed to writhing on the ground in agony. For a quick moment, Gyda wondered if he was changing into a  _ strigi _ like her, but as his arms twisted themselves into odd positions, she knew that wasn’t the case.

Right before her eyes, the man began to  _ change _ . His face grew elongated until it looked like he had a snout, and his legs and arms twisted into painful positions. Hair grew all over him and suddenly Gyda wasn’t staring at a man anymore.

She was staring at a  _ wolf _ .

A feral wolf.

It looked up, having sniffed her out and stared at her with golden eyes. She sat on Renhet, shock-still. She couldn’t believe it. She’d never seen something like that before. It stared at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to look away, until his gaze turned sharp and he growled, loud and angry.

Gyda knew deep inside her that she needed to get away,  _ now _ . She reared Renhet up and galloped away, onto the trail and back to the castle. She could hear the wolf on her tails but Renhet was fast and Gyda was crafty, and she weaved them through the trees until she lost the wolf.

Finally she made it back to the castle, were Athelstan was waiting at the gate looking worried sick.

Gyda barely stopped Renhet in time to not trample Athelstan. She leaped off and into Athelstan’s arms.

“Where have you been?” demanded Athelstan. “You promised you’d be back before nightfall.”

Gyda sighed impatiently, “Nevermind that, you’ll never  _ believe _ what I saw in the woods!”

Athelstan looked down, curious, “What?”

“I saw a man transform into a  _ wolf _ !” Gyda exclaimed.

“What? Are you sure?”

“ _ Yes _ . I saw it with my own two eyes! Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Athelstan thought for a moment, “No. Eli’s never mentioned any magick of that sort. Are you  _ sure _ you saw him transform?”

Gyda sighed again, “Yes!”

She grabbed Renhet’s reins and led her inside the gate, Athelstan walking beside her. He seemed lost in thought as they took Renhet back to the stables where Gyda brushed her hair before bidding her goodbye for the night.

Athelstan led Gyda back into the castle and they walked in silence until Gyda finally asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“Whether or not I should tell Eli about what you saw.”

“Perhaps you should. Maybe he would have knowledge about it, I mean he  _ has _ been around a  _ long  _ time.”

Athelstan twisted his face in thought before sighing and saying, “You’re right, as always, sweet  _ sister _ .”

Gyda made a face at his words but turned to her door, for they arrived at her room. Her hand opened the door but before she went in, she turned to Athelstan.

“You’ll tell me what Eli says, right? About what I saw?”

Athelstan smiled and took her hands, “Of course.” He kissed her hands and bid her goodnight.

She smiled at him before closing her door for the night.

Once the door closed, Athelstan’s smile fell. He had this dreadful pit in his stomach that told him whatever Gyda saw in that forest, it was not good. He feared what Eli would have to say.

He took a deep, unneeded breath and made his way to his and Eli’s shared chambers. He found Eli absorbed in a scroll as reclined in the bed. He probably hadn’t picked up on Athelstan and Gyda’s conversation. So Athelstan would have to tell him.

“Eli,” Athelstan said, drawing his attention.

Eli smiled when he saw him, “Athelstan! You’re back. Did you find her?”

“Yes...she came back,” Athelstan said. “She’s fine but she said she  _ saw  _ something.”

Eli drew a quizzical brow, “Saw something? What did she see?”

“She said--she said she saw a man...turn into a  _ wolf _ ,” Athelstan said hesitantly. “Is that possible?”

Eli grew incredibly serious, “Is she sure that’s what she saw?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Athelstan breathed. 

Eli’s face grew serious, “ _ This is not good _ .” He jumped from bed and began pacing the room, muttering to himself.

Athelstan began to grow panicked at the sight of him and demanded, “What is it? What’s wrong? Do you know that man?”

Eli turned to him, “I may not know the man, but I know what he his.”

“What is he?”

“ _ A lycanthrope.” _

“What’s that?”

Eli sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “A man who has the ability to turn into a wolf every full moon.” He stomped his foot and slammed his fist into the wall, where it cracked upon impact.

Athelstan watched him warily, “And why is this bad?”

“ _ Because _ ,” Eli ground out through gritted teeth. He looked murderous in that moment. “The very reason they are that way is to  _ kill strigi _ .”

“ _ What _ ?” Athelstan eyes widened in shock.

“A long time ago, long before even I was born, my  _ Father _ , The First, was wreaking havoc in Ancient Rome with his newlywed  _ wife _ . There was this secret society that banned together to hunt down any  _ strigi _ they turned. But they were only human and were not able to keep up with our superior skills. So they turned to a  _ wicca* _ . She cast a spell on them that allowed them turn into wolves on a full moon,” Eli explained.

“And how did this help them?”

“When they are in their wolf form, they have almost all of the same abilities as you and I. Greater strength, agility, speed.  _ And _ , their bite is  _ fatal _ to one of us, even you, Gyda, and I. And it’s a  _ painful _ way to go. I’ve seen it.”

Athelstan gulped, “And what does that mean for us?”

“ _ Lycanthrope _ travel in packs, like real wolves. There could be dozens of them, and somehow they are this far South-West.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew there were packs in Éire*, but I did not think they’d cross the ocean to get here. And they were close in the forest, so that means they know were here. They’re  _ tracking  _ us. They must’ve got wind of our killings. I  _ knew _ we stayed here too long!” He bashed his fist into the wall again, the crack becoming larger.

“We could leave,” Eli suggested, then paused. “Although I’d rather kill them.”

“I thought you said there could be dozens of them?”

“Yes, but at the speed at which you and the others are improving, we could easily take them. They are still only wolves. They can killed like any other  _ dog _ .”

Athelstan grew contemplative, “I don’t kn--”

Suddenly a shout was heard from the gate. He and Eli stood to attention. They looked at each other then bolted out the door. They headed toward the amory first, Eli grabbing his demon-head pommel sword, and Athelstan grabbing an axe, before heading out to the gate. They saw the wolf, presumably the one Gyda saw, having already mangled one of the guardsmen, and was stalking the other. The guardsmen had his sword out, ready to strike, when Eli ran up behind him and gained the element of surprise and slashed the wolf’s backside. It howled and jumped away.

It turned and glared at him, before lashing out again. Eli held his sword at the ready but right when it looked as if the wolf was going to jump on him, it changed course and charged at Athelstan instead, who was beside him.

Athelstan swiped his axe out in desperate motion, and it seemed like just in time. He could feel it slicing through the neck of the wolf. It fell upon him and he crashed to the ground, the axe stuck in it’s neck. 

Athelstan scrambled to get the wolf off of him, who was quickly dying. It gave one last growl before succumbing to death. Athelstan watched as right before his eyes the wolf began to morph back into a man, with the cuts they laid upon him stark and bloody against his alabaster skin.

His eyes were a icy blue and they glared unfocused at Athelstan who still lay on the ground. As Eli helped him stand up, they heard hurried footsteps as Thorunn, Gyda, and some of the servants came rushing out. When Thorunn saw the dead body, she quickly blocked Gyda and the servants, pushing them back towards the castle. At the last minute, Gyda escaped under Thorunn’s arms before she pushed the castle doors shut. She ran at full speed back to Eli and Athelstan and stopped dead still at the sight of the body.

Thorunn came rushing up next to her, “I tried to get her away.”

Eli looked up from the body and placed his foot on the dead man’s neck before getting a good grip on the handle of the axe and pulling it out with a  _ shick _ , “No, it’s good that she sees this. Sees what we’re up against.”

Thorunn looked confused, “What are we up against?”

“Men who can turn into deadly wolves every full moon.”

“Aren’t we unable to die?”

“Their bite is  _ fatal _ to us  _ strigi _ . And there’s more of them. Once this one doesn’t return to the pack, they’ll know we killed him. And they’ll  _ definitely  _ want revenge. They’ll most likely try to attack us next full moon.”

“So what do we do?”

“We can  _ flee _ ,” Eli looks pointedly at Athelstan who looks away awkwardly. “Or we could fight.”

“I say we fight!” Thorunn held up a fist.

“I concur,” Eli replied. “Athelstan? Gyda?”

“...I suppose I will fight. To keep us safe,” Athelstan said hesitantly.

“Then so shall I!” Gyda declared.

“No!” Athelstan yelled immediately. 

Gyda and the others looked taken aback by Athelstan’s abrupt shout.

Gyda turned indignant and hurt by Athelstan, “Why not? I can fight, just as well as any of you!”

Athelstan struggled to find the words, but he realized whatever he would say would only make Gyda angrier, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Do you still think me a child, Athelstan?” Gyda demanded, her eyes flashing black and red dangerously.

“No…” spoke Athelstan slowly. Truth was, he did. He couldn't help but see Ragnar’s little girl in front of him, and he so desperately wanted to keep her safe. 

“I just...want you to be  _ safe _ ,” Athelstan said, putting emphasis on the word “safe”.

Gyda’s expression softened a little but she held her ground, “I can't just  _ sit around _ , while you and the others go off and fight, not when I have these incredible... _ abilities _ . Athelstan, you've seen what I can do, let me fight!” She reached out and grabbed Athelstan’s hand, “ _ Please _ .”

Athelstan looked to Thorunn for backup but she was decidedly looking at the dead body of the  _ lycanthrope _ , ignoring Athelstan’s gaze. In a panic, he looked to Eli, who was staring at his and Gyda’s joined hands with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Eli? What say you?” Athelstan asked, secretly hoping Eli would take his side, although he knew  _ that _ was far-fetched.

Eli looked up at Athelstan and smiled, “I say she join us. She's right, she  _ can  _ fight almost as well as us; why say no to an extra set of fists? We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Athelstan sighed, defeated. He turned back to Gyda, “All right. You can fight—”

Gyda jumped up and down, elated.

“— _ BUT!  _ At the first sign of real danger, I want you gone, understand?”

Gyda stopped jumping and nodded solemnly, “Yes, Athelstan.”

\-------

Eli calculated that they had at least thirty-one days until the  _ lycanthrope _ struck again, and this time in larger numbers, for they killed one of theirs. Eli threw them into training day and night, and he presided solely over their lessons, most of the guardsmen sent off on a special mission. Eli trained them in special techniques for sword fighting, until the guardsmen came back. And they were carting men with them, but one look at Eli told Athelstan they were not humans. They were captured  _ lycanthrope _ . 

Eli held them in heavy chains down in the dungeons amongst the other humans they kept for food the night they came and then the next morning he brought them out, at the beginning of training. He held their chains in one hand, and a pouch in the other. The prisoner’s mouths were gagged and it was obvious to Athelstan that the chains holding them had been  _ magicked _ , meaning they couldn't break free.

He turned to Athelstan and the others, “In this pouch, is a  _ magickal  _ concoction, that when I blow into their faces, will  _ trigger  _ their transformation. Once they are transformed, I will release their chains and  _ your  _ job is to kill them. Understood?”

Athelstan and the others nodded.

Eli, satisfied, handed the chains off to guardsmen and poured the concoction from the leather pouch into his hand. He twirled his hand a bit before turning to the three captured men and blowing the particles into their face.

Athelstan watched as their faces grew pained and the men began coughing as they inhaled the dust. One by one, they fell to the ground, twisting in pain. As their features twisted into that of wolves, Athelstan, Thorunn, and Gyda took a stance, preparing themselves and their weapons. Thorunn brandished her sword, Gyda her daggers, and Athelstan his axes. 

Athelstan tightened his grip on the handles of his axes as the wolves became truly transformed, and their golden eyes fixated on them.

The wolves wasted no time in attacking, leaping off the ground and towards them. Athelstan and the others raised their weapons in defense. A wolf snapped its jaws against Athelstan’s crossed axes, raised against his face in defense. Athelstan hiked up a leg and shoved as hard he could against the belly of the beast. It went flying off him and landed against the posts of the training yard.

Athelstan stood and twirled his axes, readying himself for more. The wolf struck again, gaining momentum as it charged towards him, and this time instead of meeting him, he sidestepped at the last moment and wolf charged past him and into the post again.

Eli laughed.

Beside Athelstan, Thorunn and Gyda were fighting their respective wolves. Thorunn was circling hers, twirling her sword and beating on her shield as she paced, none of that Viking shieldmaiden lost. Gyda hiked over her wolf and skidded behind it. It made a pained noise, she had caught him with her daggers as she passed over him. It was wounded now. Thorunn twirled her sword once more as her wolf charged to her again and in a quick swipe, she removed it’s head from it’s body.

The head landed, transformed back into a man, at the feet of Athelstan, who was still fighting his wolf. Eli whooped from the sidelines and Thorunn walked away from the training yard, joining Eli to watch Gyda and Athelstan finish theirs off.

Athelstan was tiring of his fight, so he pulled one last move to finish off his wolf. As it was preparing to attack again, Athelstan reared up on of his axes and swung it as hard as he could, towards the wolf’s face. It flew across the training yard and embedded in the wolf’s skull with a  _ THUNK! _ As the wolf fell to the ground, dead, it transformed back to the man it was. Athelstan removed the axe from the man's skull and watched as Gyda killed hers with large gash to the neck.

Athelstan wiped the blood off his axe onto the sleeve of his tunic while Eli approached them, clapping.

“Well done. I believe we’ll do quite nicely in battle,” Eli mused.

* * *

In the rare moments when Eli wasn't presiding over their training, he took Athelstan aside and began teaching him the basics of attacking with  _ magick _ .

Athelstan picked it up with ease, having been training in other sorts of  _ magick _ for some time now. Soon he was able to fling his opponents into one another, and even conjure up a little flame in his hands, although his power was nowhere near Eli’s, who could shoot fire from his hands at will. Eli didn't do it often, not always liking to rely on his  _ magick _ skills. It also took up a lot of energy to do it too much, Athelstan finding himself oddly exhausted after their lessons.

The time was drawing nearer, and Athelstan could tell that the others were growing anxious. They were to be facing several dozen  _ lycanthrope _ , who were as strong as them in their wolf form. Athelstan was more worried about getting bitten. 

Eli, however, remained calm. He seemed to have the utmost confidence in their abilities to defeat the  _ lycanthrope _ , and he said as much. It was a complete change from his demeanor when he first heard the news of impending  _ lycanthrope _ .

“You and I have powers they’ve never possessed in their  _ wildest _ dreams!” exclaimed Eli to Athelstan one night, as the full moon drew nearer and Athelstan’s anxiety grew.

“But they are as strong as we are,” argued Athelstan.

“Not as strong as  _ me _ ,” smirked Eli. “ _ Besides _ , we can wield weapons, weapons that can strike them down easily.”

Athelstan nodded but didn't feel assured. 

They continued with their  _ magick  _ lessons while Gyda and Thorunn trained hard for the upcoming battle. Their fight style was quickly evolving into something more lethal, Gyda being able to get the best of her opponent easily.

The day of the battle grew close and Athelstan could feel the castle’s occupants grow tense. He wondered what would happen if they lost, what would happen to the servants and the castle?

Eli growled that they would never take his home from him, vowing to himself to kill them all.

Athelstan was curious as to why Eli hated the  _ lycanthrope  _ so much. Eli explained that it had been ingrained in his mind from an early age to hate them, to kill them at all costs.

“The  _ lycanthrope  _ were created to defeat us, it’s only fair we return the favor,” Eli said to Athelstan one night.

Athelstan was afraid of this battle. Afraid of what might happen. He didn't think he could stand it if Gyda or Thorunn got injured. 

He was also afraid of what he might become, after this bloody battle. If he killed without mercy, would it make him fall further down the hole of becoming a monster. More of a monster than he already was. For the dark side of him, the  _ demon _ , relished in violence and after what Eli told him, how his demon side was just a manifestation of his darkest desires, Athelstan worried that this battle may trigger something dark in him, something he can't hide away.

All too soon it seemed, the day was almost upon them. Eli trained them harder than ever before, testing their limits. He fought Thorunn with hand-to-hand combat, teaching her how to use her powerful fists in case her sword gets knocked out her hand in battle. He hit them harder than ever before, throwing them against walls, making them bleed, if only for a short while. 

He had the seamstress work diligently on crafting the finest warrior clothes for them to wear. 

“We can't have you fight in dresses, can we?” Eli had teased Gyda and Thorunn.

Thorunn insisted on hers looking Viking made, as did Gyda. They looked like pure warrior when they finally tried on the finished product. Thorunn was pleased. She liked the feel of armor on her skin, it felt natural.

Athelstan hated to admit it, but he liked the feel of the leather armor against him, it felt  _ familiar _ . Like coming home. 

 

And then finally, the day came.

__  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Renhet - purity  
> *Éire - Ireland


	13. THIRTEEN

_'A battle won is a battle which we will not acknowledge to be lost.'_

_\- Ferdinand Foch_

* * *

Tensions ran high throughout the castle the night before the full moon but Eli walked through, whistling a jolly tune all the while.

 

Athelstan was sharpening his axes in the amory, sitting by the blazing the fire where the blacksmith was putting the finishing touches on the last swords, maybe for the last time. In the morning, all the household staff would be sent into town, away from the fighting. Only Eli, Athelstan, Thorunn, Gyda, and the guardsmen would remain.

 

Athelstan looked up from one his axes, looking suspiciously at Eli as he entered, still whistling that jolly tune.

 

“What's got you so happy?” Athelstan asked.

 

“Ah, the smell of  _ victory _ , my dear Athelstan. The smell of victory!” Eli replied, glancing a look over the blacksmith’s shoulder, admiring his work.

 

Athelstan didn't comment and went back to sharpening his blades.

 

Eli, disliking the silence, waltzed up to him and plucked the axes right out of Athelstan’s hands. Before Athelstan could take them back, Eli was turning away from him, inspecting the blades. 

 

After a moment, Eli spoke, “Why, Athelstan! I believe if these blades where any sharper they'd cut clean through  _ our _ skin!”

 

_ ‘Good idea,’ _ whispered a dark part of him.

 

“Just...wanted to be sure,” Athelstan said instead, standing up from his seat and walking towards Eli, hands out, expectant.

 

Eli regarded him a moment before placing the axes back into Athelstan’s hands and saying, “Go to our room and wait for me there.”

 

Athelstan knew what Eli wanted but didn't push, instead nodding his acquiescence and making his way back to their chambers, but not before stopping by and checking on Gyda and Thorunn.

 

Gyda seemed to be trying to distract herself by weaving at her loom, but one could tell she was not paying attention for her lines were all out of place.

 

She seemed despondent as she weaved, so lost in her own inner turmoil she didn't notice Athelstan slip in her room until he spoke her name.

 

Her face instantly brightened and she left her work, squeezing herself to him.

 

“Oh Athelstan!” she cried. “I've been trying to weave for  _ hours _ now and nothing is coming out right!”

 

Athelstan caressed her back, trying to soothe her, “It’s alright, sweet sister. There will be plenty of time for that after tomorrow.” He didn't know if he believed those words himself.

 

Gyda lifted her head from where she buried it in his chest and said, “If there is going to  _ be _ a day after tomorrow.”

 

“Hush, now,” Athelstan said. “Do not think such things. Everything will fine.”

 

Gyda gazed at him with those oh so familiar eyes and said, “You promise?”

 

“I promise.”

 

Athelstan left Gyda to try again at her loom and found Thorunn, training alone in her room with her sword.

 

“Good swing,” Athelstan commented as he entered her room.

 

Thorunn twirled her sword in hand before turning to him, “Thank you.”

 

“Getting ready for tomorrow?”

 

“Always,” Thorunn paused then said, “Athelstan?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I know we are... _ dead _ ...but the thought of actually returning to battle makes my  _ blood  _ pump in excitement. Is that possible?”

 

Athelstan thought for a moment before saying, “I do not know. I know I have definitely felt what you have described before, since I have been turned.”

 

“Does it not make you feel  _ alive _ ?!” Thorunn asked, wonder in her eyes.

 

“Yes,” Athelstan said. “More alive than what I have felt in awhile.”

 

Both Thorunn and Athelstan suddenly grew very sad and Athelstan decided to take his leave.

 

“ _ Gipta*,  _ Thorunn,” Athelstan said as he left her room.

 

“ _ Gipta _ !” She called after him.

 

Finally he made his way to his and Eli’s shared room. Eli still wasn't there. Anticipating what was coming, Athelstan quickly shucked off his day clothes and tied on a finely robe to hide his nakedness underneath.

 

He stared out the window, waiting for Eli to finally arrive so they could get it over with. Ten years had passed since Eli had raised him and he still wasn't used to Eli’s hands on him; he didn't think he ever would be. His first instinct was to be repulsed at Eli’s touch, although through the years he’d managed to hide that part of him, at least when Eli was around. 

 

Finally, when it was pitch black in the sky, and the only light was from the the almost full moon pouring through the window and candles lit in the room, did Eli enter the room.

 

He wasn't whistling now, but he still seemed happy, content even. 

 

Athelstan  _ loathed  _ him.

 

Eli smiled upon seeing Athelstan in his robe and walked towards him saying, “Shall we have one last  _ romp _ in the sheets?”

 

Athelstan sighed and turned to him, “I thought you were confident we'd win.”

 

“I am,” grinned Eli. “But I fear there will be a change, between this time and our next.”

 

“As do I.” replied Athelstan.

* * *

 

Dawn came quickly or too slow, Athelstan couldn't tell. He didn't laze about in bed with Eli after their romp and instead locked himself away in his study, writing diligently in his journal. He didn't know why he was. 

 

Was someone going to find it one day, if he's long gone and read his story? Or will he forever cart them around, burdened by his long memory, for he records every single important detail about himself in his journals. He bares his soul. Maybe one day he hopes someone will come along and find familiarity in his words. Someone who understands.

 

As he flipped through the pages after writing his last line,  _ for now _ he promises, a drawing in the corner of one of pages caught his eye. 

 

It was Ragnar. 

 

Of course it was.

 

The details of his face hearkened Athelstan back to the last time he saw him, when Ragnar told him those words.

 

_ I love you _ .

 

Said so delicately, Athelstan remembers not being able to say a word. Just in awe at the confession, he felt like a priest. Hearing something sacred, for his ears alone.

 

_ ‘What would he think of me now?’ _ wondered Athelstan.  _ ‘Would he still love me? Or turn me away, after everything I've done.’ _

 

Athelstan was afraid of the answer he might get, someday. 

 

_ ‘I’ll never find out if I don't survive this battle,’ _ surmised Athelstan. He was overcome with this sudden need to fight, to survive. If not for himself, then for that chance to at least tell Ragnar how he feels. 

 

He was ripped out of his reverie by a knock at the door. It was Gyda. She was already dressed in her warrior’s garb, her hair braided neatly out of her face.

 

“It's time to get ready,” Gyda said, hanging by the door.

 

Athelstan gave the drawing one last fleeting look before slamming the journal shut and walking out, joining Gyda. 

 

He got dressed quickly, sliding into his leather like second skin. He tied his hair back; he'd kept it long all these years, never past shoulder length.

 

He went by the armory and grabbed his axes, testing their sharpness once more. Thorunn and the others joined him, each of the them grabbing their prospective weapons.

 

The castle was deadly quiet. All the servants had gone and the guardsmen were standing ready at the gate, waiting for Eli’s command to attack.

 

Eli sniffed the air, “ _ They’re here _ .”

 

Athelstan sniffed the air too, searching for whatever Eli smelled and he found it. It smelled of wet dog and an earthy scent. It was quite unpleasant and very distinctive, once you knew what to smell.

 

They all shared a look before making their way through the castle yard and out the gate, where they could hear the faint sounds of men walking through the forest.

 

Finally, they emerged.

 

Athelstan’s first thought was that they reminded him of Ragnar’s people, looking very burly and vicious. Their chests were bare and painted, as was the custom of those in Éire. There must have been over a hundred of them! Athelstan felt as if he was buzzing from nerves.

 

What Athelstan presumed was the leader stepped forward. He had a stern face and long dark brown hair with a matching beard. He stood confident, assuring.

 

_ ‘Cocky,’ _ thought Athelstan.  _ ‘I've known a few men like him.’ _

 

“I suppose I'm the one who speaks first,” says Eli lazily. “I know why are here but you are wasting your time.”

 

“You killed one of ours,” accused the leader.

 

“Not just one,” taunted Eli. He motioned for to the guardsmen and they uncovered a cart, revealing the mangled bodies of the ones they'd kidnapped and killed.

 

The large pack of  _ lycanthrope _ grew angry in unrest. Many called threats upon Athelstan and the other’s, cursing their names. The leader held up his fist, silencing them.

 

“You’ve just started a war,” said the leader.

 

“We both know you were going to attack us anyway, it's in your  _ nature _ ,” Eli sneered. “Before I  _ kill _ you, tell me your name. So I can tell all of how you fell at my hands.”

 

“Or you will die at mine,” growled the leader. He paused, considered, then he spat, “Cenric.  _ That's  _ my name.”

 

“ _ Cenric _ ,” Eli tried the name out on his tongue. “Very well, Cenric. Let's find out who the fates favor.”

 

Athelstan gripped his axes tightly, and saw Gyd and Thorunn brandish their blades, ready. Eli stood there, waiting. He was watching the tree line. Athelstan looked up and saw what he was waiting for. The full moon in the sky. The moment it's rays fell upon the men, they began twist and turn in torment. 

 

They watched in anticipation as they formed into wolves, taking a few moments. Eli finally unsheathed his sword and held it up, ready to swing.

 

The leader had fully transformed. He looked truly feral, glaring at Eli with golden eyes full of hate. The others of his pack, one by one changed the same and were soon standing behind him, all ready to attack.

 

“Let’s not waste any more time then,” Eli called. “ _ Strigi _ , ATTACK!”

 

The leader of the pack howled in response and both lines at the same time charged at the other. 

 

To Athelstan, from the moment his feet first left the ground, until his axes slammed into the ribcage of a wolf, time seemed to slow. He could watch every movement at once, knowing exactly who was going to collide with who. 

 

Eli and Thorunn were charging, head on, swords at the ready into battle. Gyda zigzagged her way towards her first wolf, fingering the daggers hidden in her hands.

 

Then, the moment everyone clashed, time sped up. Everything was happening all at once. Athelstan was slicing left and right, trying to not to get snapped at by one of their large jaws. 

 

A wolf came charging out at him, from the fray and Athelstan ducked, sending the wolf flying in the direction of Eli who was battling two wolves at once. 

 

A split second decision, Athelstan yelled out, “Eli!” 

 

Eli looked up from slashing his sword straight through one of the wolves and saw the one Athelstan sent his way. His face turned annoyed and he held up a hand and flung it out, as if swatting a fly. 

 

The wolf that would have neared its jaws upon Eli suddenly jerked mid-air to the left and collided with the body of another, both flying into the trees.

 

Athelstan turned his back on Eli and focused on Gyda a second, assessing that she was okay before throwing himself back into the mix. He slammed the butt of one of his axes into the jaws of a snapping wolf, wrestling with it until he caught it underneath with his other axe.

 

Death surrounded them. Soon, the ground was littered with the transformed bodies of the men that were wolves. Even a few of the  _ strigi  _ guardsmen were squirming on the ground, having been bitten or worse.

 

The wolves seemed to never ending. Everywhere Athelstan stepped, there was one, dead, in the ground and another was attacking him, alive. Something ferocious started to seep out of him, as he slashed his way through the never ending mass of wolves.

 

Blood was drenching him. It was splattered across his face, his leather armor. He felt like an angry warrior, wiping out anybody who stood in his way. 

 

Athelstan felt himself slipping. Slipping into that darkness at each slice he made with axes. He saw Eli’s eyes were fully red and black, completely taken over by his demon. And he was enjoying it.

 

Athelstan could see Eli’s smile as he shot fire at the wolves coming at him with one hand, while slicing up others with his sword hand.

 

Thorunn seemed to enjoying it too. She forgot how it felt to be in the heat of battle again; she missed it. She could tell she had gotten better, since last she met an opponent on the battlefield. 

 

No more scars. 

 

At that thought, she grinned broadly and sliced the head off an incoming wolf. 

 

Athelstan focused back at the task at hand, sensing another charge from the wolves at his side. Time slowed down again, as he watched them charge at him, five at once.

 

He wasn't sure what to do; he couldn't take on all of them at once, charging at him like that. They were getting closer; he felt something akin to panic till an idea popped into his head.

 

Athelstan allowed the wolf leading the charge to get incredibly close to him (Eli would later scold  _ too close _ ) and then did something he'd never done before.

 

Right before the wolf could get a bite out of his leg, he jumped forward and over the wolf, twisting his body in an odd way. He landed, perfectly, on his feet behind the charging wolves.

 

Before they could figure out what happened, he flung one his axes at the back of the leading wolf’s head and it sliced open his skull. It embedded in the tree bark behind the wolf.

 

That, of course, made the other wolves angry and they turned around and charged again. Athelstan figured his little trick wasn't going to work twice, so he backed away from the charging wolves, trying to figure out a plan.

 

He didn't get too far, before a figure beside him appeared. 

 

_ Eli _ .

 

“Didn't think you could handle all these  _ dogs  _ alone, huh?” teased Eli, brandishing his sword.

 

Athelstan didn't answer, only twirling his axe in his hand.

 

The wolves were on them now. Eli raised the hand that wasn't holding his sword and tossed a few fireballs at them, catching two. 

 

There were only two left charging at them. One of them jumped on Athelstan, and he raised his axe, slicing. It's head rolled off of its body right before his eyes. The one who tried to attack Eli got a sword to his stomach for good measure.

 

Athelstan looked around them again, after killing that wolf. Their numbers were less now, finally thinning out. Gyda and Thorunn were helping the remaining  _ strigi _ guardsmen take out the rest of the wolves, and with a quick glance to each other, Eli and Athelstan joined them.

 

The leader of the pack was still alive, it seemed, although it had sustained heavy wounds.

 

Athelstan surmised silently to himself if the leader dies, would the other remaining members of the pack stay and fight or leave?

 

_ Only one way to find out _ .

 

Eli seemed to have the same idea, for he was suddenly rushing at Cenric, sword held high. Athelstan followed suit, brandishing his remaining axe.

 

Eli flung a few fireballs at Cenric but he dodged them, charging to them now, angry and intent on killing.

 

Cenric jumped, and Athelstan and Eli skidded to a stop, holding their weapons up to defend themselves. Before they crashed together, someone else threw themselves upon Cenric, both of them flying away from Athelstan and Eli.

 

Athelstan looked up, wondering who it was that took Cenric down and suddenly panic seized him. 

 

It was Gyda!

 

Struggling under the body of Cenric, trying to avoid his snapping jaws as she stuck her blades in his ribcage. Athelstan rushed to them but before he could reach them, he saw Cenric bury his teeth in Gyda’s neck, as if in mockery of what they do.

 

Athelstan roared with anger and reared up and slammed his axe into skull into Cenric killing him instantly.

 

Athelstan didn't even hesitate.

 

Gyda groaned in pain from underneath the dead wolf. All around them, the fighting stopped. The wolves didn't know what to do now that their leader was dead, but Athelstan didn't care anything about that. He kicked Cenric off of Gyda and knelt beside her, panicking.

 

“I-I am sorry, Athelstan,” Gyda sobbed. “I got bit.”

 

Athelstan tried to soothe her, “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

 

Gyda only groaned in pain in response.

 

Athelstan gently scooped her up in his arms after tucking his axe in his belt loop. He ran in the direction of Eli, who with Thorunn and the guardsmen, was finishing off the remaining wolves that hadn't already run away after seeing their leader killed.

 

“She got bit!” Athelstan yelled, running with her in his arms. “She got bit!”

 

“What?!” Eli screamed, as he slashed another wolf in half.

 

“There has to be a way you can help her!” pleaded Athelstan.

 

Eli sighed and looked at Athelstan. It was okay to let his guard down, Thorunn seemed to be chasing the last few wolves out into the forest. 

 

When he looked into Athelstan’s eyes and saw the hurt and desperation, something stirred in him. 

 

“Take her to my solar,” Eli decided. “There  _ may be  _ an ancient healing potion hidden in one of those old scrolls I took. The First never seemed to be intimidated by a  _ lycanthrope  _ bite. Perhaps he had solution.”

 

Athelstan nodded and ran at full speed back to the castle and up in Eli’s solar. He brushed all the things cluttering Eli’s table to the ground to make room for Gyda before gently laying her down.

 

“It-it burns, Ath-Athelstan,” Gyda sobbed. “Worse th-than the sun.”

 

Athelstan turned away from scrambling through the shelves of books and scrolls, looking for  _ anything _ that could help and caressed a hand through Gyda’s hair, which had started to become unbraided at all the action.

 

“It's going to be okay, Gyda,” Athelstan soothed. “I'm going to help you.”

 

At that moment, Eli and Thorunn burst through the door of the solar, both still dripping in blood.

 

“The wolves are gone. We won,” Eli stated.

 

“Great,” said Athelstan distractedly. “Now help me cure her!”

 

Immediately they all end into action, Athelstan and Eli scouring through the books and scrolls in record time. Thorunn stood beside Gyda and held her hand, as she writhed in pain.

 

An hour passed and she formed a fever, her brow beginning to sweat.

 

Athelstan didn't think that was good, and from the look on Eli’s face, neither did he. They searched through the literature faster until--

 

“Ah! I found it!” screamed Eli. He eyes were roaming over a very ancient scroll.

 

“That right bastard,” muttered Eli as he read.

 

“What?!” frantically demanded Athelstan, fearing the worst.

 

“He wrote it in High Angelic script. Only He and few others know this language,” explained Eli.

 

“Well can you read it?!”

 

“ _ Yes _ . Lucky for us, The First taught me this language himself.”

 

Gyda groaned loudly in pain and gripped the table, causing it to crack under the strain.

 

“Then, help her!” demanded Athelstan.

 

“Alright, alright!” Eli raised his hands in mock surrender. “Get me a blade and some flame.”

 

“Gyda, sweet one, do you have one of your daggers on you?” Athelstan asked sweetly.

 

Gyda reached a shaky hand to the leather dagger holster on her side. Athelstan covered a hand over hers and gently pulled the dagger out of the holster.

 

He raised it up to Eli, how snatched it out of his hands and roamed the scroll again. Athelstan went to the hearth on the other side of the room and lit it with a quick wave of his hand.

 

Eli came over with him to the flame, carrying the scroll and the dagger. He stuck the blade in the flame and muttered words under his breath, reading from the scroll.

 

Afterwards, he hurried back to his work table, holding the red hot dagger in his hand. He rifled through his shelves of his herbs, until he found the one he was looking for.

 

He held up the vial and said, “Wolfsbane. Deadly to  _ lycanthrope, _ helpful for their bites.”

 

“What do you do with it?” Athelstan asked.

 

“We are going to cut off the top layer of the bite, with that magick dagger, before I turn this wolfsbane into a paste and place it on the leftover skin. Now hold her down, this is going to hurt.”

 

Athelstan and Thorunn moved to hold her down, Athelstan holding down her arms and Thorunn her legs. Eli twisted Gyda’s neck away, to see the bite clearly. It was bloody and inflamed. Dark veins were slowly branching off of it. 

 

He got a good hold on the dagger, held it up to the wound and said, “On the count of three, okay?”

 

Gyda nodded tearfully.

 

“One, two--” Eli said but before saying three, he dug the dagger beneath the wound and expertly cut it off of her. 

 

Gyda screamed and writhed in agony and Athelstan couldn't stand it. He held her down as hard as he could as Eli removed the offending element. Then, once it was removed, he quickly went to work turning the wolfsbane into a paste.

 

Gyda was panting heavily, still in a lot of pain but it seemed like the hardest part was over. Athelstan moved to hold her hand as Eli came back with the newly formed paste. 

 

With surprising gentleness, Eli soothed the paste over the skin. Almost instantly, Gyda calmed. The skin immediately began to heal, the dark veins receding and the skin slowly turning to her more normal pale skin.

 

Athelstan thought the entire room breathed a collective, unneeded, sigh of relief. He bent down and kissed Gyda’s sweaty forehead. She smiled up at him, weak but alive.

 

Athelstan looked up at Eli and said the words he'd never thought he'd say to him, “ _ Thank you _ .”

 

Eli looked up, surprised, “You’re welcome, I suppose.”

 

At that moment, the fire in the hearth crackled and through the flames appeared a folded piece of parchment. Eli flashed a quick look at Athelstan, that he wouldn't have caught if he wasn't already watching Eli.

 

_ Something was wrong _ .

 

Silence fell as they all stared at the letter, sitting unburnt in the flames.

 

“Well?” Athelstan asked. 

 

Eli looked up.

 

Athelstan gestured to the letter.

 

“Oh, right!” Eli said, voice trying to be normal.

 

He walked briskly over to the fire and plucked the letter out of the flames. He opened it and read over it, quickly. Athelstan watched as his face fell and if he didn't know any better, he’d think that Eli had turned slightly pale.

 

“What’s wrong now?” Athelstan asked exasperatedly. 

 

Eli closed his eyes and swallowed. He slowly turned around.

 

“I haven't been entirely truthful with you these last few months,” said Eli slowly.

 

“Well, that's a surprise,” scoffed Athelstan sarcastically. 

 

“Athelstan, this is serious.”

 

Gyda sat up, leaning her back against Athelstan’s front, “What is it, Eli?”

 

Eli sighed, “A few months back I got a letter. A letter saying, that _ Ragnar Lothbrok _ was back in Wessex.”

 

A pin could drop in the room at news. They were all processing what Eli had said.

 

“He’s alive?” whispered Athelstan finally.

 

“I think you've always known that he was, Athelstan,” replied Eli.

 

“Is he still here, Eli?” asked Gyda, hope shining in her tired eyes.

 

Eli looked down at his bloody shoes, “Actually…”

 

Gyda’s face welled with tears, Thorunn looked to the ground, her eyes sad. Athelstan could only shake his head, feeling his own tears well up. 

 

It was happening all over again, except this time, Athelstan felt sure it was real.

 

He was sad for a moment, consumed with grief, then suddenly he was angry. Red hot anger coursed through his veins.

 

“He's been dead for MONTHS, and you didn't tell me?!” demanded Athelstan, rounding around the table and advancing on Eli.

 

Eli backed away, “What good would it have done? You have to wait a thousand years anyways!”

 

“How?!” screamed Athelstan.

 

“What?”

 

“How did he die?”

 

“He was handed over in chains to King Aella, where he buried him in a pit of snakes.”

 

Athelstan felt as if he'd been stabbed in the gut, “A pit of snakes?”

 

“No Valhalla,” whimpered Gyda. 

 

“That's not the worst of it,” said Eli.

 

“Oh, there's more?!” demanded Athelstan.

 

“This letter,” Eli held up the letter from the fire, “Came from one of my many  _ friends _ \--”

 

Athelstan scoffed.

 

“ _ \--Friends _ , who said the Ragnarsons have arrived on the shores of England, to wreak havoc and revenge.”

 

“What?!” yelled Athelstan, Thorunn, and Gyda all at once.

 

“We-we have to leave,” panicked Thorunn.

 

“I concur,” said Eli. “They say Bjorn Ironside is leading the charge. What do you think would happen if he found us here? Saw you two, Athelstan and Gyda, who he thinks are dead?”

 

Athelstan was still angry but couldn't help but agree with Eli. Bjorn and the others couldn't see them, he couldn't bring more people into this new life of theirs. Gyda was a surprise enough. 

 

“Where would we go?” asked Athelstan.

 

“Wait, what about Bjorn?” yelled Gyda. 

 

“Gyda, he wouldn't understand,” said Athelstan, going back over to her and taking her hand.

 

“But, but,” Gyda whimpered. “He's my  _ brother _ .”

 

“I know, I know,” soothed Athelstan. He took her into his arms and rubbed a hand up and down her back.

 

Eli regarded the two having a moment, waited a second before saying, “We could sail to Paris?”

 

“To Paris?” asked Athelstan incredulously. 

 

“Wander the French countryside.”

 

“I want to go to France,” said Thorunn, remembering those plans to go so long ago, when she was shamed.

 

“Then it’s settled!” Eli clapped his hands and started bustling about the room, shoving things into a crate.

 

Gyda burst into tears and buried her face into his abdomen. Athelstan’s face grew stern as he caressed her head. 

 

France would be a big change. But it was necessary. 

 

“Athelstan, you speak Frank?” Eli called over his shoulder as he packed his things.

 

“A little,” replied Athelstan. 

 

“Good. Teach what you know to the others, I'm sure we’ll pick up the rest there. Gather your things. As soon as I return, we’ll be leaving.”

 

“Return? From where?” Athelstan asked.

 

“Not your concern,” Eli said, flicking his eyes up and down. “Now go.”

 

He went back to packing his things and Athelstan took that cue to pick up Gyda and take her back to her room, Thorunn following suit. 

 

Gyda didn't seem to feel much like talking, looking very tired and very sad, so he tucked her into her bed and held her hand until she fell asleep. 

 

Then he kissed her brow and left her to go back to his and Eli’s room. Eli wasn't there and that was fine with Athelstan. He didn't have much to say to him now, he was still trying to process what he'd heard.

 

So.

 

Ragnar was dead now, for sure this time. 

 

Athelstan didn't know how to feel.

 

He didn't think he could  _ feel _ anything. It was just a big blank nothing whenever he thought about it. He'd have to wait a thousand years, like Eli said.

 

A long time.

 

He sighed and went to the water basin in the corner of the room, finally stripping the day’s battle away. He glanced into the looking glass and got a shock.

 

He looked a sight. His hair had long since unraveled from where he tied it at the nape of his neck and it was coated in blood. His face and clothes too. His eyes were what really shocked him though.

 

They held a sliver of anger within them, aggression, left over from the battle. They also looked numb. Numb to the anger. To the pain.

 

Now he truly reflected what he felt was his true self: a monster.

 

And now he had to wash his hands of the blood, blood of dozens of men he killed, and pretend he was a good person.

 

Athelstan hoped he could keep pretending, until he finally got Ragnar back. 

 

But a thousand years is a long time...

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gipta - good luck


	14. FOURTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! It's here! Yay! I finally finished it AND my computer is fixed! Happy day, happy day! Just so you guys know (I forgot to mention this in my author's note) I have a job now so I don't know if I'll be able to update as often as I used to but I will try my utmost! I have not given up on this story, I swear it!

_'The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.'_

_\- William Shakespeare_

* * *

Athelstan finished cleaning himself up, washing the blood away from his body and hair, and finally changing out of his warrior leathers and into a soft, light blue tunic.

 

He was about to lay down, rest for awhile, when Eli came barging into the room, carrying a chest with him.

 

“Oh good, you’re cleaned up,” Eli said. He placed the chest down and started throwing things into it, not looking up. “I need you to do something for me, while I'm gone.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Athelstan asked icily; he hadn't so easily forgotten the nature of their previous conversation.

 

“Go into town, pick up our staff. Have them strip this castle down. I want it packed up by the time I get back,” replied Eli, still throwing various objects into his chest.

 

“And when _will_ you get back?” Athelstan asked, sitting up amongst the pillows on the bed.

 

“A few days, maybe a week,” replied Eli.

 

“And can you tell me _where_?” Athelstan put on a teasing lilt, to see if a mood change might lift his secrets.

 

El paused and turned to face Athelstan.

 

He made himself look as if he was in deep thought then said, “ _No.”_

 

Athelstan groaned and flopped back on the bed. What use were his times with Eli if he couldn't get something out of them in return? _Deals_ . _Information_. He didn't do it for satisfaction, not with Eli.

 

“Oh do grow up, Athelstan. I can't always heed to your whims.”

 

Athelstan laughed, “Since when have you ever _heeded to my whims_?”

 

“The journals!” cried Eli indignantly.

 

“I didn't ask for those,” reminded Athelstan, false sweetness. “That was your whim, not mine.”

 

“Well then, what would you like?” cried Eli, frustrated at being questioned.

 

“I _want_ you tell me where you’re going,” insisted Athelstan.

 

“Why?” yelled Eli, snapping at him. “Why must I tell you these things?!”

 

“Because, every time you keep secrets from me, people wind up getting _hurt,_ ” replied Athelstan.

 

Eli sighed and then turned around and snapped his chest shut before heaving it into his arms and walking towards the door.

 

“Sorry, Athelstan but _no_ , I cannot,” and that's all he said as the door closed.

 

“What do you mean ‘you cannot’?!” yelled Athelstan in frustration at the closed door.

 

There was no reply.

 

He sat there a few minutes on the bed, stewing over his failed attempt to get information out of Eli. He had that sinking feeling in his gut again, and he had feeling he needed to trust it. There was never any good coming from Eli keeping secrets.

 

He was jumped out of his reverie by the sounds of hooves galloping down from stables and through the castle yard. Athelstan left his place on the bed and stole out to the window, to see Eli, atop a beautiful russet-brown horse, galloping out the castle's gate and down the path, into the woods. Athelstan watched him go with a frown; now there was nothing he could do but as Eli said.

 

He sighed and went to lay back down on the bed. He needed to get some rest before he started Eli’s task in the morning. He fell asleep almost instantly, finding himself completely exhausted after the day’s events.

 

He woke a few hours later, to light peeking through the window. He glanced around the empty room and grabbed his trousers, pulling them on as he got out of bed. He pulled on his leather shoes before tying on his belt and attaching a dagger to leather. He ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it down from the tangled mess it had gotten in his sleep.

 

Satisfied, Athelstan left the room. He could sense that Gyda was awake and went to bid her farewell for the day. She was still in bed, but awake. She seemed to be in deep thought as he peered in her room.

 

“May I come in?” Athelstan asked.

 

Gyda shrugged and Athelstan took that as a sign to come in. He went and sat by her feet on the bed.

 

They sat in silence for a few moments before Gyda spoke up, “Eli left.”

 

“He did.”

 

“Did he ever tell you _where?_ ”

 

“ _Heh_ , _no_.”

 

“Of course,” sighed Gyda. “He does whatever he wants for his own gain, nevermind the rest of us.”

 

Athelstan said nothing.

 

“Do we really have to leave, before Bjorn arrives?” Gyda asked.

 

Athelstan sighed, “I'm sorry Gyda, but yes. He'd never understand.”

 

“He could come with us!”

 

“And make him abandon his men? We both know you’d never ask that of him.”

 

Gyda sighed, frustrated. Athelstan was right.

 

“So, we just leave then?”

 

“Unfortunately, _yes_.”

 

“To this— _France_ , yes?”

 

“Yes. To Paris, your Father’s been there.”

 

Gyda’s eyes lit up, “He has? When?”

 

“Oh, after both our times. He went not long after I—I died, and had some kind of _adventure_ there, I know.”

 

“Do you know what happened?”

 

“No, no. I just know _something_ happened, _something_ that made the world think him dead. We both know that's not _true,_ but for a long time, it _was._ It wasn't until last night that my suspicions were confirmed, that Ragnar _is—was_ alive.”

 

“Is that why I appeared?” Gyda asked suddenly.

 

“What?” Athelstan asked. He'd never told Gyda the specifics of that night, the why’s and how’s were never discussed between them.

 

“ _Thorunn_ told me,” Gyda explained. “That you trying to bring back my Father.” She looked down at her hands, dejectedly. “I was a mistake.”

 

“What? No!” Athelstan rushed forward and took her hands in his. “Gyda, you are _not_ a mistake. Not a day goes by that I don't feel blessed to have you by side, despite everything.”

 

Gyda’s eyes were shining red with tears. She gazed up at him, so hopeful.

 

“You are _not_ a mistake, I promise you, Gyda.”

 

Gyda squeezed his hand then sighed, “I believe you. And, I suppose, I can handle going to...France. As long as you’re by my side.”

 

“ _Always_ ,” promised Athelstan.

 

He left Gyda soon after and made his way down to the stables. The castle was quiet as he prepped his horse for his saddle before pitching himself up. As he rode out of the stables and towards the gate, a little voice in his head told him to look up.

 

He did and saw Gyda there, in the window, watching as he rode away. He raised a hand and waved. She smiled a little and waved back, before turning and disappearing from the window, her hair a gleam of gold then gone. Athelstan’s smile fell from his face and he turned back to the road.

 

He rode out to the nearby town, where all their staff was holed up in various houses while Athelstan and the others fought the werewolves. Athelstan rode to each of the designated houses and rounded up the household staff. He compelled some farmers to _lend_ him a cart and some horses, so they could carry their belongings from the castle and into the Viking ship.

 

Athelstan and the others were back by midday and soon, the quiet castle was back into action. The night before, while Eli and the others were busy saving Gyda, the remaining guardsmen had piled up the bodies of the fallen _lycanthrope_ and _strigi_ , before burning them in a large pyre in the middle of the castle yard.

 

Athelstan’s first order to the household staff was to have them clean up the ashes of the dead and throw them out to sea. The staff were still compelled by Eli and didn't question a thing as they brushed the ashes into buckets and carried them out into the blue ocean.

 

Once the large pyre had been cleared away, Athelstan and the other household staff began packing everything away. Tapestries came down, wardrobes were stripped clean, and the amory packed up. Athelstan took extra care in packing his journals, after a long debate with himself about whether or not he should.

 

The days passed and soon the castle was almost completely bare, save for the beds in their rooms and the chickens and horses, which Athelstan planned on selling to the remaining staff.

 

Eli came galloping back one stormy night. Athelstan could only just barely hear the sound of his hooves over the rolling thunder. He was drenched from head to foot and said not a word as he came into his and Athelstan’s room. He unlocked his chest and began changing out of his wet clothes.

 

Athelstan sat at the mahogany table in the corner, looking up from a scroll he hadn't packed away yet.

 

“Fortuitous trip?” asked Athelstan.

 

Eli smirked, his fresh tunic sliding over his head.

 

“ _Wes hāl_ to you too, _gorgeous_ ,” he snarked. “And yes, for your information, _I did_.”

 

Athelstan rolled his eyes at Eli’s attempt at charm and said, “And can you _finally_ tell me what it was you were doing?”

 

“You’ll find out... _one day_.”

 

Athelstan glared at him but didn't say a word.

 

“I see you did as I asked,” Eli said, appraising the stripped room.

 

“I did,” agreed Athelstan. “When do we leave?”

 

Eli glanced at him a second before saying, “Tomorrow night. We’ll get the staff to help us load the ship and then, when the sun sets, we cast off to the lovely France!” Eli finished with a flourish of his arm.

 

“Are we going to stay in Paris?” asked Athelstan.

 

“What? Oh no, _that_ would be a bad idea,” Eli said, sitting on the bed.

 

Athelstan sighed, “Why?”

 

“ _Because_ , Ragnar’s brother _Rollo_ is there. He’s married to the Emperor’s daughter, Gisla. He’s a Duke and a Count there,” explained Eli.

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

This sounded completely foreign to Athelstan. _Rollo_ a Count? A Duke, even? He couldn't see Rollo acting as anything other than a Viking. But, he supposed, people change.

 

Athelstan certainly did.

 

“If he somehow found you in Paris, things could go bad...for _him_ ,” smirked Eli.

 

“So, it’s best that we arrive in Paris then leave, immediately, right?”

 

“Well, we’ll need to feed, but yes, we’ll leave Paris as quick as possible.”

* * *

 The next night, the storm that came with Eli in the dark had passed, leaving wetlands in its wake. Athelstan, Eli, and the male household staff helped pile their belongings into the cart Athelstan had _borrowed_ from a local farmer. They led the horses down, out of the castle, and onto the crags and sand below. Athelstan and Eli pushed the Viking ship ashore.

 

It was still in good condition, even after sitting there all those years. They hauled the various chests into the ship, then Gyda and Thorunn came down from castle, carrying their own hand belongings.

 

Gyda said a tearful goodbye to her beloved _Renhet_ , kissing her on her beautiful, pure white nose before the staff hauled her away. A few drops of Gyda’s blood tears fell on Renhet’s face before she could dry them away, marring her otherwise perfect face. Thorunn held her as they lead the horse away.

 

Eli had one last talk with the remaining household staff after he had each of them feed Athelstan and the others a pint of blood each, they needed to be full for the trip. He compelled the staff to leave and forget them, and instead placing memories of odd jobs in their heads to explain the money they were given in small leather pouch. With a confused handshake, the staff departed from the shore, leaving only Eli, Athelstan, and the girls.

 

“So this goodbye, then,” Gyda said as Athelstan helped her into the ship.

 

“Perhaps we’ll come back, _someday_ ,” Athelstan replied.

 

“ _Someday_ ,” Gyda mused, gazing out into the dark waters.

 

“Well!” Eli said, the last to jump into the ship, his leather boots stomping against the wooden floor. “Shall we set sail?”

 

* * *

They made good time, sailing straight into the shores of Francia. Eli conjured up thick, heavy mist to conceal their ship and they made port near midnight in a small village outside of Paris. They stole through the village like ghosts, stealing four horses from the stables. They laden them with their wares and quickly galloped out of the village, heading east.

 

“Where are we going, if not to Paris?” called Athelstan, once they were fully away from the ears of the sleeping villagers.

 

“Strasbourg,” replied Eli.

 

“What’s in…” Gyda struggled with the name, “Strasbourg?”

 

“An acquaintance of mine. He’ll give us safe lodging until I know where to take us next.”

 

“And who is this acquaintance?” questioned Athelstan.

 

Eli sighed, annoyed, “Always with the questions, Athelstan! If you must now, he’s from my past. He’s a _strigi,_ like us, but older. Older than me, even.”

 

Athelstan stared, “Older than you? How much older?”

 

“About 2,000 years,” Eli smirked.

 

Gyda gasped and even Thorunn looked shocked.

 

“We can live that long?” questioned Gyda.

 

“Longer,” said Eli. “We live _forever_.”

 

* * *

They traveled east for days. As they travelled, under the direction of Eli, Athelstan taught Thorunn and Gyda the smattering of _Frank_ he knew. They picked it up quickly, soon stringing along sentences with only a little pause.

 

They eventually came across the big towering walls of Paris. Gyda and Thorunn gazed upon them in wonder; they had never seen walls such as that. Eli lead them around the walls, in the dense forest that surrounded Paris.

 

“It would not be worth it if he caught you inside,” advised Eli as they lead their horses around.

 

“If who caught us inside?” Gyda asked.

 

Athelstan debated whether or not he should tell Gyda. Deciding she’d eventually find out one way or another, he turned to her in his saddle.

 

“Your Uncle Rollo,” he said.

 

“What is Uncle Rollo doing here in Francia?” Gyda asked, in broken French.

 

“According to Eli, he has been married to their Princess Gisla. He is now a Duke,” explained Athelstan.

 

“What is a Duke?” asked Thorunn.

 

“It’s like a Jarl. It’s the highest ranking under the monarchy, the King and Queen.”

 

“Uncle Rollo, a Duke?” Gyda wondered. “I guess he finally has his wish.”

 

“What wish would that be?”

 

“To be finally rid of my Father’s shadow.”

Athelstan looked at her, staring out into the sunset, and said nothing.

 

They got around Paris, and continued to head east. Athelstan could feel himself getting hungry again. It had been days since they last fed. He hoped the man they were calling upon would have some fresh blood for them, Athelstan did not know if he’d have the energy to go and hunt for it.

 

Finally, in the dead of night, when the whole city was asleep, Eli and the others came riding into Strasbourg. The hooves of the horses were the only sound heard in the nighttime air and they crossed over a stone bridge. Athelstan watched the water as it flowed through the village, under the bridge and away.

 

Eli lead them to the house of modest size, albeit bigger than some of the others surrounding it. He held up a hand, signalling Athelstan and the others to stop, then he got off his horse, tied it to the horse post outside the house, then walked up to the door.

 

He rapped on the door three times, in quick succession, and very quietly. Only someone with advanced _strigi_ hearing could hear those knocks, and that was precisely the point.

 

After a moment, the door opened a smidge to reveal a young man, younger than Athelstan, with a tan brown face. He was frowning but when he saw who it was, a smirk broke out on his black-whiskered face.

 

“Eli! You _nothoi_! You came on the wind, I see,” said the young man, opening the door wider and letting Eli through, clapping him on the shoulder.

 

The young man looked out the door to Athelstan and the girls, “These are your companions?” Athelstan nodded at him, unsure whether or not this young man was the one Eli had talked about; the one who had lived for thousands of years.

 

“Well, come in then! Come in! There’s plenty of room for you,” the young man waved them off their horses.

 

“I’ll have the household staff bring in your things, you come and sit comfortable, you understand?” He smiled charmingly at Gyda and Thorunn.

 

The young man lead them into a small sitting room, where something was boiling over the fire. On closer inspection, Athelstan was surprised, and a little horrified, to see that it was blood. Human blood.

 

“Ah, I see you smell the blood,” said the young man. “I boil it over the fire, keeps it fresh before eating. Would you like a cup?”

 

Gyda and Thorunn nodded their heads eagerly and the young man laughed. He snapped his fingers and a young woman appeared, looking meek. He ordered her to fill five cups with the steaming blood and she did, without a second thought.

 

 _‘Compelled,’_ thought Athelstan.

 

“Ah! Eli! Where are our manners? You haven’t even introduced me to your new family!” said the young man, sitting in a cushioned chair that looked older than most of the furniture in the house. He gestured for the others to sit; Eli sat in another cushioned chair while Athelstan and the girls sat in some wooden chairs that the serving girl brought in.

 

Athelstan wanted to bite back that he was _not_ a part of Eli’s family, but instead he kept quiet and took the offered cup of blood gratefully.

 

He took a sip; it _did_ taste fresh.

 

“Athelstan, Gyda, Thorunn, may I introduce an old friend of mine, Leon,” Eli gestured to the young man, Leon, who bowed his head respectfully to Athelstan and the girls but snorted at Eli.

 

Athelstan thought the name Leon was well-suited for this young man, for with his mane of long, flowing black hair he looked the part: a _lion_. 

 

“ _We_ are _not_ friends,” smirked Leon. “I only help you out because I know how much it’ll piss off  _Him_.”

 

“Him?” questioned Athelstan. “You know the First?”

 

“Ah!” Eli laughed nervously. “Ignore him, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth. shut.” Eli glared at Athelstan, who only shrugged.

 

Leon held up a hand, “It’s quite alright, Eli. I’ll allow questions from him. _He_ hasn’t pissed me off, yet.” Leon turned to Athelstan, “Yes, I know the First. I know that _nothoi_ like the back of my hand.”

 

Athelstan hesitated, then, “Did He... _make_ you?”

 

Eli rounded on him, “Athelstan!”

 

Leon laughed, “I like this one. He has more balls than any of your last bedmates.”

 

If Athelstan could flush, he would. So Lyon knew about him and Eli. What else did he know?

 

“To answer your question, _yes_ , the First created me. At the behest of my dear sister.”

 

“Sister?” questioned Gyda.

 

“My _sister_ ,” said Leon, staring into the embers of the fire, "is the First's _Queen_."

 

Athelstan could tell that that was a sore subject for Leon, so he did not push the matter. Compared to Eli, Leon was very pleasant. He seemed world weary, that was for certain. He probably didn’t get many guests often, by the way he bumbled about for them to have a place to sit.

 

Athelstan wondered what Leon was doing here, in Strasbourg, a million miles away from the First and his sister. He detected some bad blood there. Maybe, Athelstan thought hopefully, Leon was like him. Burdened by this gift and hateful to the ones who had given it to him.

 

“So! Eli,” began Leon, musing over his small cup of blood. Athelstan was surprised to see him take so little compared to the rest of them.

 

Maybe, he thought, the older you are, the less you have to drink.

 

“Where did you find these beautiful creatures?” he gestured to Thorunn and Gyda.

 

Thorunn smirked a little and raised the cup of blood to her lips teasingly. She was enjoying this new man’s eyes on her; appreciative eyes. Perhaps he’d be a much needed reprieve from her nightmares of Bjorn.

 

“They are... _friends_ of Athelstan’s here,” said Eli. “He begged me to turn them.”

 

Athelstan and the girls glared at him; that was not the truth whatsoever.

 

Leon smirked, he knew Eli was lying also but let him have his little game.

 

“I meant,” said Leon, “where did they come from?”

 

“From the North. They were part of the Vikings.”

 

Leon raised a brow, “You mean those savages that were ravaging Paris and the Francia coast not but ten years ago?”

 

“The very same.”

 

Leon tapped his cup, “Interesting. Very interesting.” He looked to Athelstan, “But you, you are not Viking. No, you are...Anglo Saxon. Correct?”

 

Athelstan smiled, “I was, a long time ago. I was a monk, then the Vikings came and took me as a slave. I’d been with them ever since.”

 

“And what killed you?” asked Leon.

 

Silence.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“What killed you? Unless Eli changed you willingly,” Leon smiled at the minute face Athelstan made at that, “Perhaps not. So, what killed you?”

 

“Someone who did not like me,” Athelstan hoped that would be enough.

 

“Why?” Leon tilted his head. “You seem perfectly lovely to me.”

 

“Because, I was a Christian and _he_ was not.”

 

Leon scoffed and spit into the fire, “What a terribly boring thing to kill someone over which _gods_ you worship. Well, look at you now Athelstan! Still living, despite everything.” He held up his cup in a mock salute.

 

Athelstan raised his hesitantly in response.

 

They finished their drinks then Leon had the serving girl show Thorunn and Gyda to the room they’d share, while Leon personally showed Athelstan and Eli’s to theirs. It was a modest sized room with a canopy bed and a wooden desk in one corner, where Athelstan and Eli’s things sat. Leon smiled sadly at Athelstan before closing the door, leaving him alone with Eli for the night.

 

Eli advanced on him with a smirk, attacking his neck with kisses.

 

“It’s been too long,” moaned Eli as he bit Athelstan’s shoulder.

 

Not long enough.

 

Eli pushed Athelstan backwards onto the bed, removing their tunics and belts as he went. He licked kisses and bites down Athelstan’s front until he got to his trousers. He slipped them off with ease, quickly putting his mouth on Athelstan’s cock.

 

He coaxed his cock to hardness with the wet heat of his mouth, pulling off only when Athelstan was fully hard. Eli’s mouth travelled further south, probing at his taint before licking a wet hot stripe across his hole.

 

Athelstan cursed and raised his hips a little in response. He hated himself for thinking it felt good; the monster inside him roared with pleasure, practically begging to be let from it’s chains. He didn’t let go, however; he remembered the deal he made with Eli, so long ago. Instead, he grit his teeth and allowed Eli to take what he wanted.

 

Eli’s dark beard tickled him as he ate him out, slowly sneaking a finger up to his puckered hole. He probed a little, teasing, before sliding it inside, startling out a moan from Athelstan. It didn’t hurt, oh no. He was way past hurt.

 

“Do you have any oil?” Athelstan ground out.

 

“This not enough for you?” Eli teased but he got up and went to one of his chests all the same. He came back a few seconds later with a vial of oil. He poured a little on his fingers and went back to Athelstan’s hole.

 

He added a second finger, slick with oil, and pumped them in and out in a smooth, fluid motion. He fucked Athelstan slowly on his fingers, wanting him to feel every inch of him. Deciding he could take more, Eli added a third finger, stretching Athelstan wide. He scissored his fingers, curling them up against Athelstan’s prostate, making him see stars.

 

Satisfied, Eli withdrew his fingers and removed his own trousers and boots. He slicked up his thick, heavy cock with copious amounts of oil before slapping Athelstan on the thigh, motioning for him to get on his stomach. Athelstan did as he was told, burying his face in the feather pillow when he fet Eli at his entrance. Biting his lip, Eli breached him, pushing through the tight furl of muscle with little resistance.

 

Athelstan bit back a moan; Eli buried himself to the hilt. He gave Athelstan a moment to adjust before slowly pulling back out and slamming back in, eliciting a yelp from Athelstan. Grinning, El did it again. And again. And again until he built up a rhythm, fucking him earnestly. Eli lifted Athelstan’s hips up to meet his, rocking back and forth inside.

 

He gripped his hips tight enough to leave bruises, if that were possible, and fucked him with abandon. Athelstan could feel himself slipping, slipping into the horror that was the monster. It took every ounce of his willpower to stay afloat, battling the monster within and the mounting pleasure.

 

They fucked for what seemed like a lifetime before Eli, getting close, reached down and took hold of Athelstan’s leaking cock, stroking him to completion. With a cry, Athelstan came despite himself, Eli following soon after, his seed spilling deep inside.

 

Eli slowly pulled out of Athelstan, laying beside him on the feather bed.

 

“Well, that was nice, was it not?” Eli asked, running a hand through his dark brown curls.

 

Athelstan didn’t say a word. He buried his face into the pillow and closed his eyes, ignoring the feeling of Eli’s seed dripping out of him.

 

He closed his eyes and he slept.

 

* * *

 _‘Athelstan….’_ a voice called in the void.

 

It was _that_ voice. The voice that sent an ice-cold chill down Athelstan’s spine every time he heard it.

 

 _‘You will doom them, Athelstan,’_ mocked the voice, coming closer now in the void. Athelstan looked left and right, looking for the source of the voice.

 

“Who are you?” He screamed into the black void.

 

Chilling laughter sounded, from all around him.

 

 _‘You know who I am,’_ teased the voice in a hiss. _‘Or rather, you did…’_

 

“What do you mean?” Athelstan demanded. “Who have I doomed?”

 

The voice only laughed, _‘You shall see, Athelstan. You shall see...now wake up!’_

 

With a start, Athelstan woke with a gasp, panting even though he didn’t need the air. To his right, Eli was still asleep in the feather bed. Athelstan went silently to the window, drawing open the curtains to let in the early morning light.

 

His dreams disturbed him.

 

Who was this voice speaking to him?

 

Athelstan had seen too much the past ten years that he could not dismiss these dreams as folly. No, they were much more than that.

 

They were messages.

 

But of what?

 

 


	15. FIFTEEN

Athelstan made his way down the wooden steps of Leon’s modest home and walked across a beautiful tapestry rug that depicted a king being devoured by his followers. It was a deep blood red and was incredibly light as he walked across it. Athelstan went into the sitting room where Leon sat in his cushioned chair, reading a scroll.

 

He did not look up when Athelstan came in but said, “Sleep well?”

 

Athelstan considered him a moment; should he tell him, this veritable stranger, the truth of his dreams? Perhaps Leon would know something about them or at least assuage his fears a little. 

 

Deciding against it, instead he said, “Yes. It was some very much needed sleep.”

 

At that, Leon closed his scroll, “Yes, I figured, after your whole  _ adventure _ .”

 

“Adventure?”

 

“The battle on Eli’s castle, between you and that group of _ lycanthrope _ . You have made many enemies now, and many friends in the  _ supernatural  _ fellowship.”

 

“And what of you?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Are you an enemy or a friend?”

 

Leon smiled, a little sadly, “I am a friend to no one, but I will help you Athelstan. I can see from your eyes that you no longer have your heart. It lies in the hands of a dead man.”

 

Silence.

 

“How do you know about that? Do you have  _ magick _ too?”

 

“All of those who are directly raised by the First and his subsequent firstborn children are raised with  _ magick _ ,” Leon looked disgusted by this statement.

 

Athelstan sat across from Leon, at the place Eli had sat the night before, “Why did your sister…”

 

“Why did she beg the First to change me into a  _ strigi _ ?” asked Leon. He shook his head, his black hair flowing freely around him, “She claimed she could not live without me.” Leon smiled without humor.

 

“Then why did she send you away?”

 

“What? Oh no, no. She didn't send me away. I--I left. It became too much for me. If you met the First, you would understand.”

 

Silence ensued once more until Athelstan decided to ask his next question.

 

“Forgive me, but, when were you turned? Eli said you are over 2,000 years old…”

 

Leon nodded, “I am.” He looked into the fire burning in the hearth, “I was born in Greece over 2,000 years ago on an island named Mykonos. My family were great participants in the Mysteries of Dionysus, my sister principle among them. I was training to be a soldier, a warrior. Then  _ He _ came into our lives and ruined everything!” Leon spat into the fire, as if cursing someone.

 

Hesitantly, Athelstan asked, “What is He like?”

 

“The First?” Leon chuckled without humor. “You know how Eli is, where do you think he learned all of it?”

 

Athelstan winced.

 

Steps sounded upstairs.

 

“Ah! I believe your female companions are awake,” said Leon, gesturing to the stairs. 

 

He was right. Thorunn and Gyda came gliding down the stairs in their beautiful gowns of red and blue respectively. Thorunn had her hair braided up off her head, showing off her slender, pale neck. She smiled coyly at Leon once she entered the room. Thorunn was lonely after almost a decade of mourning the loss of her love with Bjorn, and was seeking solace in a seemingly friendly face.

 

Gyda came and sat in Athelstan’s lap, once he held out his arms to her. She settled in his arms and began playing with the hair at his neck. 

 

“And how did you two beautiful  _ guné  _ sleep?” Leon asked, smiling at Thorunn and Gyda expectantly.

 

“Very well, thank you,” responded Gyda in perfect French.

 

“Ah! Well done,  _ mon amie _ !” 

 

Gyda made like she would have flushed and buried her head in Athelstan’s neck, hiding from Leon. 

 

Leon smiled at her and turned to Thorunn, “And what of you,  _ ma belle fille _ ?”

 

“I slept well,” replied Thorunn.

 

“Good. That’s good,” nodded Leon. After a moment, he spoke again, “Would you like to see something beautiful,  _ petite fille _ ?”

 

Gyda looked at Athelstan, who nodded. 

 

She turned to Leon, “Yes, I would.”

 

Leon stood up, placed his scroll on the table beside his chair and held out a hand to Gyda, who took it after a moment’s hesitation. Athelstan stood up and followed, Thorunn behind him. Leon lead them out the back of his house, into a beautiful garden, full of lush and gorgeous flowers of all kinds.

 

Gyda gasped at the sight and her blue eyes grew wide, “Oh, what beautiful flowers!”

 

“You can pick as many as you like,  _ petit _ ,” Leon patted her on the shoulder, pushing her a little into a bush of marigolds.

 

Gyda delightedly began to run through the garden, picking up dozens upon dozens of flowers and placing them in a bundle with her skirt held aloft. Athelstan could see her white underdress peeking out, clear as day.

 

“Thank you,” he said to Leon as they watched her flit through the garden.

 

“Ah, but of course!  _ Children must be cherished,  _ for they carry our future in the palms of their little hands.”

 

Athelstan looked to the ground, at his boots and the earth beneath them.

 

Gyda would always be a child.

 

Athelstan had damned her to eternal childhood, because he was selfish. 

 

That guilt sank him like a heavy stone on his heart. 

 

Leon looked at him, really  _ looked _ at him, like he was staring into Athelstan’s soul and said, “And perhaps, there may be a way to help,  _ la petite fille _ .”

 

Athelstan and the girls froze. Upstairs, movement in Eli and Athelstan’s shared room paused. 

 

“ _ Help _ me?” called Gyda from the ground by some narcissi. She had a handful in her hand. She looked cautious but hopeful, all shining in her bright blue eyes. 

 

She dropped the light blue hem of her skirt, the flowers scattering. 

 

“ _ How _ ?” she demanded, standing.

 

Leon looked at her, “There may be a spell that--”

 

“ _ \--Don’t _ !” yelled Eli, coming down the stairs and out the door in record time, only half dressed in his trousers. 

 

Leon turned to him, suddenly fierce, showing the warrior within that guard of formality. Athelstan felt as if he were watching himself, of what he was becoming. 

 

“Do not  _ presume _ ,” said Leon, grabbing Eli by the throat, and he began choking him, his eyes a sudden red and black, “to think that you can tell me-- _ ME-- _ what to do!” He twisted his hand and broke Eli’s neck with  _ snap! _

 

Athelstan watched in horror (and secret delight) as Eli slumped, presumably dead, to ground. 

 

Leon twitched a little, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his wavy hair and opened his eyes, the brown irises clear once more.

 

“Forgive me,” he chuckled, cracking his neck. “ _ Le petit diable _ needs to be let out every now and then. He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine. He’ll wake up in a hour or so.”

 

“Now,” he fixed his stare back on Gyda, “there may be a spell that could, in effect, make you older, or at least,  _ appear so _ .”

 

Gyda dropped the narcissi, “You mean--I could--I could be?”

 

Tears welled in her eyes, “You would do that for me?”

 

Athelstan turned to him, “Why?”

 

Leon looked away, “I have my reasons, but mostly because it’s the right thing to do.”

 

Athelstan was not satisfied, but didn’t push it. He didn’t want his neck broken too.

 

Instead he said, “So what do we do?”

 

\-----

 

Turns out, the scroll that contained the spell that could alter the course of Gyda’s undead life, was the scroll Leon had been reading when Athelstan came down that morning. 

 

It was old and cracked in several places. It was made of some sort of animal hide and Athelstan recognized the language of some long dead form of Hebrew.

 

“You read Ancient Hebrew? From the times of the Old Testament?” he asked Leon.

 

“Yes, I read and speak hundreds of languages. I was taught by some of the best tutors in the world,” replied Leon, picking up the scroll.

 

“Who taught you Ancient Hebrew? Even the most senior ranking monks of my monastery did not know the language.”

 

Leon looked him square in the eye, “I think you know who.”

 

“The First?” Athelstan questioned. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“How old is this... _ man _ ?”

 

Leon tilted his head, curious, “Did Eli not tell you the story? Of how we came to be?”

 

“No,” Athelstan shook his head. “No, he barely tell us anything.”

 

Thorunn and Gyda nodded in agreement from their seats in the chairs in the sitting room. 

 

Leon looked out the back door, where Eli’s body still slumped, dead for awhile, and said, “Well, since it looks like Eli is going to be out for sometime, I might as well tell you before I have to snap his neck again.”

 

He gestured for Athelstan to take a seat next to the girls, and after a moment’s decision, he did. Leon took a seat in his chair, still holding the scroll and waved a hand over the fire.

 

The flames flickered and crackled, and Athelstan and the girls watched in amazement as figures began to appear in the flames, flickering through the fire, telling some kind of story.

 

“ _ In the beginning _ ,” said Lyon into the flame. “ _ Yahweh created the heavens and the earth.” _

 

Athelstan stared; this was hauntingly familiar.

 

“ _ He created the entire world in six days, and at the end of each day he pronounced them good. On the sixth day, Yahweh decided to create mankind, in his own image. He made man from dust and named him Adam. Then, He decided that Adam needed a companion, so, he put Adam to sleep and fashioned out of his rib a woman, named Lilith. Now, this Lilith was unlike any creature Yahweh had created. She was incredibly beautiful, with flame red hair and sparkling green eyes the color of the Paradise they resided in. Adam was immediately in love with her and wanted to be with her, intimately. But, when he went to bed her, Lilith refused him. She told him she did not wish to bed beneath a man! She wanted to be on top. Lilith angered Yahweh, who threatened to banish her from Eden if she did not sleep with Adam. She continued to refuse so Yahweh threw her out of Eden and into the wasteland of the rest of the world. Yahweh erased all knowledge of Lilith and created Eve to be her replacement, the perfect wife. Lilith wandered the Earth, alone, for a long time until, eventually, she came across what seemed to be a man. He looked badly injured and as she got closer, she saw large, bloody gashes across his back. The man did not seem to be in pain, however. He seemed oddly calm as he stared at her as she appeared. They both did not seemed to be bothered by the fact that Lilith was completely nude. They just stared, fascinated by each other. Finally, Lilith spoke, ‘Are you one of Yahweh’s men?’ The man smirked, ‘I was.’ ‘And what are you know?’ Lilith asked. ‘Just Lucifer,’ he smiled. Lilith could not help but be comforted by this smile. And that’s the great trick of it, for Lucifer is father of all lies!” _

 

Athelstan gripped his trouser leg tight. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After all this time, the basics of what he believed were true? Then what of Gyda, and her afterlife?

 

What did any of this mean?

 

“ _Lucifer struck up friendly conversation with Lilith, eventually, he coming to ask her why she was out in the wasteland all alone. She scowled, ‘Yahweh threw me out of Paradise.’ ‘Why?’ He asked. He knew why. ‘Because I would not let myself be mounted by that boorish Adam!’ Lucifer comforted her, telling her pretty things. Of how any man should be lucky to bed her, how_ _he_ _would be so lucky. Lilith looked at him, shocked, but also pleased. She felt herself unnaturally attracted to this man and was suddenly overtaken with a need to be with him. And so there, amongst the wastelands, Lilith rode Lucifer to completion. When he spilled deep inside her, his golden head shined with a glow from the sun. ‘Morningstar!’ she cried. ‘You are the Morningstar!’ ‘No,’ he panted once they were finished, ‘not anymore. I am now...Ha-Satan. And that baby inside your belly is going to help me bring about chaos to Yahweh’s silly creation, Man.’ Lilith looked down, surprised by her suddenly large belly, already growing rapidly inside her. She did not seem upset, however. She looked...pleased. ‘It will help to destroy them?’ she asked, a gleam in her bright green eyes. ‘Yes,’ replied Lucifer. ‘Then let me help you a bit further,’ and so she proceeded to tell him about the Tree of Good and Evil and how Yahweh forbid she and Adam to eat from it. Lucifer smiled, a plan beginning to form in his head. Lilith took Lucifer to the edge of Paradise and showed him a small nook he could crawl into to bypass the Angel guarding the entrance. Lucifer transformed into small reptile and crawled through the small space. Inside, he tricked Eve into eating from the tree and thus tricking Adam as well. He doomed them both and made to get away, but Yahweh did not let him go easily. He sliced off his legs and banished that creature to slither on the ground for eternity. Lucifer slithered back to Lilith, who helped him nurse his wounds and transform back into his male form. Then, the rest of Lucifer’s plan came to fruition, for Lilith was going into labor. She birthed, in a small cavern outside of Paradise, the First Strigi. He was born from shadow, a full grown Man. Lilith anointed him the Immortal One and in thanks, Lucifer used his powers to transform Lilith into something akin a Strigi, his first she-demon. Ever since Man was conceived, Lucifer has used his wiles to fight them at every turn. He made us, the Strigi, in his image. And he watches after each of us, as we are ever his followers, as long as the blood passes through our lips.”_

 

 

Athelstan closed his eyes, everything was swimming away from him. What he feared most was true, he was of the devil. 

 

He looked at Gyda, the fear in her eyes at the story. He knew she remembered his tales from his Bible, of Satan and his wicked ways. And now, to find out that he’s real? Athelstan understood how she felt. 

 

“Is this true?” Athelstan had to ask, even though he felt in his hardest of hearts that it was.

 

“If it wasn’t true,” Leon said, reaching down beside his chair to a wooden chest. He flipped open the locks and flinched as his hand touched something inside. He slowly brought it out. It was a cross, wooden and crudely made. It was burning Leon’s hand as he held it aloft, “do you think  _ this _ could still burn me?” He brandished it out towards Athelstan and the girls, who instinctively hissed in response.

 

He dropped it back in the chest after making his point, cradling his blackened hand to his chest. Athelstan watched as it slowly healed itself and returned back to normal. 

 

“How does this help me?” asked Gyda.

 

“The spell,” Leon said, gesturing to the scroll in his hand, “is the very one Lucifer used to transform into the reptile. It’s a shapeshifter spell, one that requires a lot of background in  _ magick _ .” He held out the scroll to her, but held out a hand stopping her before she could take it, “Be warned. This spell does not come easy and will take many, many years to master. It is also a very draining spell, so you cannot be in your older form forever. Do you understand?” Gyda nodded.

 

Leon handed it over to her, and she poured over the unfamiliar words, asking, “Could you provide a translation?”

 

Leon waved a hand over the words on the page, and they flickered red before transforming into the runes of her people. Gyda gasped and stroked the words, Thorunn peering over her shoulder.

 

“What does it say?” she asked. Thorunn could not read the runes; she was never taught them as child, as she was raised a slave.

 

“It is...some sort of transference of energy spell,” read Gyda. “I transfer my energy into  _ magick _ that creates a glamour, and masks me as to whatever my heart desires. The more power I have, the longer the spell lasts.”

 

She looked up, “It would take me hundreds of years to amass enough power to hold the spell for a day.”

 

Leon smirked, “Tis’ a good thing you are going to live forever, then.”

 

\-----

 

Eli finally awoke about an hour later, cracking his neck back into place. Gyda hastily hid the scroll away from view, lest Eli asked unwanted questions. For once, it felt good to have the upper hand on Eli. Athelstan wanted to keep Leon’s friendship(?) close at hand, in case Eli decided to be irrational again, which was always.

 

It was interesting to see that Eli did not raise his temper when he rose from being, well  _ dead _ , again, and instead blubbered apologies to Leon. 

 

Leon waved his apologies away with a hand, saying, “Forgiven and forgotten.”

 

“Why don’t we all take a stroll through the village?” he suggested after Eli stopped his blubbering. “It is a wonderful day and the market should be in full swing.”

 

Gyda glanced excitedly at Athelstan, “Oh, can we? I’d love to see the market!”

 

Athelstan acquiesced after only a moment’s hesitation. What harm could come of it?

 

So, Athelstan and the others got ready, dressing in their daily outfits. Athelstan picked a light blue tunic to match Gyda’s, while Eli dressed in a cream colored one. They met Leon and Thorunn by the front door. Thorunn seemed completely enraptured with everything Leon had to say, hanging onto his every word. Athelstan raised a silent brow at her but didn’t voice his questions. He figured she was searching for an escape from the ghosts of her past, as was he.

 

The group of  _ strigi _ glided gracefully through the village, pretending to be unaware of the villager’s eyes on them. They looked unnaturally beautiful in the sunlight, their perfect skin gleaming under the glow of the sun, their hair flowing behind them in perfect waves. The villagers were jealous of these beautiful newcomers and rumors about them quickly spread throughout the village as they made their way to the market.

 

Once they reached the market, the villagers could not get them out of their mouths. The group laughed silently to themselves as they walked through the market; the villagers had no idea that they could hear every word they said about them behind their backs.

They heard a few good ones as they shopped, particularly:

 

“The tall  _ Belle blonde _ is courting Leon, and  _ le petité blonde _ is her secret child out of wedlock, from when she was young.”

 

“The fair-skinned brunette was a travelling artist, visiting Leon with his little sister.”

 

“The darker skinned brunette was a Lord, having some business with Leon.”

 

The group kept themselves amused, listening to the mindless gossip of the villagers. They all ended up purchasing items for themselves at the market: Gyda, some new wool for her loom, Thorunn, some polish for her sword, Eli bought Athelstan a new journal and some quills, and Leon purchased several herbs.

 

“For some spells,” he whispered under his breath to Gyda, who giggled.

 

They wandered through the village for awhile in the afternoon sun, just soaking in the rays, although neither of them could particularly feel them. They headed back to Leon’s house once the sun started to set on the horizon.

 

Athelstan was beginning to feel hungry again, that one cup of blood did little to sustain him in the long run. 

 

Eli must have noticed his hunger, for he was suddenly pulling Athelstan away from the group, saying, “We will meet you back at your house, Leon. We are going to go fetch us some  _ food _ .”

 

Leon nodded and said, “Very well. Better you than me.” He turned and offered his arms to Thorunn and Gyda, “Come along,  _ belles _ .” They took his offered arms and waltzed off, leaving Athelstan and Eli in their wake.

 

“Where are we going to get food?” Athelstan asked.

 

“The tavern,” said Eli, and he began leading the way, back the way they came.

 

They walked in silence; Athelstan did not want to speak to Eli unless it was absolutely necessary and he liked it better when he was silent. There was less chance he’d bite back if Eli stayed silent.

 

They wandered into the tavern, already packed full of drunkards even when the evening was still young. Eli lead Athelstan to the corner of the room, and suddenly everything became all too familiar. Athelstan was reminded of the first time he’d fed in public, in that Viking Great Hall so many years ago. In some ways, the tavern reminded him of that. Of the happy, drunken people and their loud, raunchy voices.

 

Eli nodded to a big, burly fellow sitting alone at a trundle table, nursing his mead.

 

“Him,” he said.

 

Athelstan looked at the man. He seemed harmless enough, albeit huge. He wondered why the man was sitting alone, for he was quite handsome in the face with bright blue eyes and flowing sunflower golden hair.

 

“Why him?” Athelstan asked.

 

“Because I love a good challenge,” said Eli, and Athelstan rolled his eyes. Eli pushed Athelstan forward, “Now go and soften him up.”

 

Athelstan approached the man cautiously, smiling non-threatening when the man looked up as he walked towards him. 

 

Athelstan took a set across from the man and said, “ _ Bonjour _ .”

 

The man looked at him, confused as to why this beautiful man was talking to him.

 

“ _ Bonjour… _ ” groused the man slowly.

 

“Forgive me,” smiled Athelstan, completely dazzling. “I am new to this village and do not know anyone. May I ask your name?”

 

The man considered him for a moment, looked down at his drink and mumbled, “Geoffroi…”

 

“ _ Bonjour, Geoffroi.  _ I am Athelstan.”

 

“Are you from Briton?” asked the man gruffly.

 

“I was,” responded Athelstan.

 

“What are you doing in  _ Francia _ ?”

 

“...Travelling.”

 

Geoffroi harrumphed and drank the rest of his mead.

 

Athelstan laughed, a tinkling sound that was like music to Geoffroi’s ears, and asked, “Do you not like to travel?”

 

“What is there to travel for?” groused Geoffroi. “I have everything I need right here. Here is perfectly safe, no damnable  _ Northmen _ to harm me!”

 

Athelstan smiled sadly; how very wrong this man was.

 

“I wouldn’t say  _ here _ perfectly safe either,” chuckled a voice from behind Geoffroi. 

 

It was Eli.

 

Before Geoffroi could react, Eli had him gripped by the back of his neck, holding him into place.

 

Geoffroi glared at Athelstan, betrayed by this beautiful man.

 

“Thieves are you?” He growled, trying and failing to get Eli to release him.

 

Eli smirked, “You could call us that.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

Eli leaned down and brushed Geoffroi’s hair away from his neck. 

 

“ _ Your life _ ,” Eli whispered, then he bit down in the middle of the crowded tavern.

 

No one was paying attention as Eli sucked Geoffroi dry enough to where he passed out. Athelstan helped Eli carry him out of the tavern, looking like two friends helping another drunken friend home, when in reality their plan was much more sinister.

 

They dragged the half corpse back to Leon’s house under the cover of darkness, Athelstan and Eli keeping their eyes peeled for any unwelcome peepers. They stumbled him through the doorway of Leon’s house, where Thorunn and Gyda were sitting in the sitting room, listening to another one of Leon’s stories.

 

They looked up when Eli and Athelstan came in, hauling in their catch.

 

“You’ve decided to kill Geoffroi, well done,” commented Leon with an arched brow.

 

“Why?” asked Athelstan. “Should we have chosen someone else?”

 

“No, no. Just an interesting choice. Geoffroi, here, is the village’s  _ homosexual _ .”

 

Athelstan blanched while Eli huffed a laugh, kicking Geoffroi’s limp leg a little.

 

“How come no one has prosecuted him?”

 

“Well, no one has  _ actually _ caught Geoffroi in the act, but his affections for men are widely known.”

 

Eli nudged Athelstan in the shoulder, “That is why he was making eyes at you!”

 

Athelstan pushed him away, “He was not! He was just...being friendly.”

 

Eli shrugged, “It does not matter, anyhow.  _ Nashim* _ , would you like a drink?”

 

The girls and Athelstan finished off Geoffroi,  and Athelstan only feeling the slightest bit of guilt. The years had changed him, for better or for worse. He drank almost completely without remorse, satisfying the demon within.

 

Once Geoffroi was good and dead, Leon carried him with ease to the garden out the back and began digging his grave. Athelstan offered to help, but Leon waved him off saying that burying the dead was what he did, what gave him purpose in this half-life.

 

Athelstan retired to the bedroom for the night, deciding to ink a new entry in his journal. He recounted the battle at Eli’s castle, and their journey east. He drew a small picture in the corner of his entry of the beautiful bush of marigolds in Leon’s garden. He regretted that he had no colors, to truly give life to that bush of marigolds. 

 

Perhaps he could convince Eli to buy him colored ink the next time they went to market, knowing that Eli would do almost anything to please him as long as meant he was in Athelstan’s good graces. Athelstan was learning to use that to his advantage.

 

After a while, there was a movement in on the stairs, of two people giggling. It was Leon and Thorunn, and they seemed to be engaged in a delightful dance of lovers. It seemed Thorunn had gotten him after all. Athelstan listened with a slight smile on his face as Leon lead Thorunn to his room, both of them pausing several times to kiss and touch one another. A few moments later, Leon’s door closed and clothes could be heard being removed.

 

Athelstan chuckled a little and went back to his journal, this time sketching a portrait of Leon’s face, with his inky black hair and eyes staring back out at him through the parchment. 

 

There’s a knock at the door; it’s Gyda.

 

“Come in,” Athelstan called and the door opened.

 

Gyda breezed into the room, and came to clutch his arm beside him where he sat at the table. She gazed upon the pages and his drawings with wide eyes.

 

“Oh, Athelstan, they are  _ beautiful _ ! You have really captured Leon’s likeness well,” she praised, stroking the drying ink delicately with her small, pale hand.

 

“Thank you, Gyda. Was that Thorunn and Leon I heard in the hallway?”

 

Gyda giggled, “Yes. Thorunn charmed Leon’s boots off and then brazenly asked him to bed. I was there, sitting by the fire, making flowers crowns.”

 

“And what of Eli?”

 

“Busy emptying Leon’s wine cellar.”

 

Athelstan rolled his eyes. Eli always insisted on drinking, even though as  _ strigi _ , it did very little to get them drunk, unless consumed in the blood.  

 

Gyda seemed to be trying to ask Athelstan something. 

 

Finally, she blurted out, “What do you think of Leon’s story? Is that Satan you mentioned in your stories real?”

 

Athelstan bit his lip, “I always believed so. And now to hear it, or a version of it, from a man who predates Christianity…”

 

Silence, then—

 

“I do not want to be a servant of this...Lucifer. I serve my father’s Gods, not him.”

 

“Then you will not,” Athelstan said, hugging her tight. “I will not let Lucifer sink his claws into you, I promise.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the story that Leon tells Athelstan and the others is a fictionalized account of many different religions and stories, so please do not be offended by my portrayal of God and the others


	16. SIXTEEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the others but I promise the next one will be longer!

_'There will be killing until the score is paid.'_

_\- Homer_

* * *

They stayed in Leon’s abode for well under four months, with Eli busy ascertaining where they would head to next.

 

The time they spent there in that house was a welcome reprieve to all, Leon and Thorunn acting like two butterflies courting, and Gyda even learning some rudimentary magick, taught to her by Leon himself.

 

Athelstan could never thank Leon enough for the smile he put on Gyda’s face as she successfully floated her first feather for the first time.

 

Eli brooded about Gyda’s magick lessons, but said nothing, even going so far as giving her a few tips himself, much to the surprise of all.

 

Athelstan had taken a liking to Leon. They seemed to be kindred spirits; Athelstan saw a lot of himself and what he was becoming in Leon. For the first time, it didn't entirely frighten him, seeing how well Leon seemed to be getting along. He made a life somewhere, away from all the crazy happenings in the world. Athelstan could only hope for the same someday.

 

He spent a lot of time with Gyda and Leon as they continued her lessons, helping along if he could. They talked while Gyda worked, Leon telling them stories about his past.

 

Leon talked an awful lot of his sister, and it was obvious to Athelstan that he loved her very much and ached to be away from her. He told them stories of the mischief he and sister caused when they were younger, always getting into tight spots. 

 

They caused their Mother a lot of premature grey hairs, joked Leon, but as he said it, his eyes turned incredibly sad and somber.

 

Athelstan knew that look well, sure it showed on his face too at times, especially when he thought of Ragnar.

 

In return for Leon telling them stories, Gyda told a few of her own, entertaining him with tales of Odin and Valhalla, of the Valkyries and the great giant who formed the world. Leon loved these tales and asked Gyda to tell them often, fascinated by the Northmen and their religion.

 

Gyda picked up the rudiments of  _ magick _ quickly enough, soon pouring each of households respective blood into their cups with a tentative raise of her small, pale hand.

 

The first time she did it, Athelstan grasped her tight, offering his congratulations.

 

“I'm so proud of you Gyda,” he had said, and meant it, although a part of him was still scared. Scared for her and the life they led, but he didn't let it bog him down. 

 

Gyda shied away her face into his chest, and mumbled a thank you.

 

Leon had smiled warmly and took a sip of his blood with a look to Thorunn, who looked back brazenly. Those two, it seemed, could not get enough of each other, often hiding away in some corner of the house when there weren't lessons to be learned and kissing until one of them pulled the other to the bedroom they now shared.

 

Athelstan was amused by their antics and so was Gyda. They would always give each other silly looks when Leon and Thorunn were busy kissing, amused by their vigor.

 

“They remind me of my parents,” Gyda had giggled to him one day, out in the garden, picking flowers.

 

Athelstan helped her gather them. She enjoyed decorating Leon’s various surfaces with flowers.

 

“It's a shame to let all of these lovely flowers go to waste,” she said, setting a bouquet of primroses on the mantlepiece above the hearth. 

 

“It's a good thing you are here then,  _ la petite _ , to liven things up,” Leon said.

 

Gyda giggled and set another bouquet of beautiful red roses on the dining table. Athelstan was happy to hear her giggle and smile, it had been some time since he'd seen that.

 

One night, about a month before they set off again, Leon was regaling Gyda, Thorunn, and Athelstan with another tale. Gyda sat at his feet, weaving a flower crown of roses while Thorunn sat behind her, braiding her long golden hair.

 

Athelstan sat in the chair opposite Leon, listening to the story as he wrote in his new journal with graphite. 

 

“...and then, you’ll never believe it, there she was, plain as day, sitting by our town’s fountain! We'd been looking everywhere for her, all day and all night, and she was by the fountain the whole time! Said she was peering at her reflection, like Narcissus!” Leon laughed.

 

“Who’s Narcissus?” Gyda asked.

 

“Ah! Now  _ there's  _ a story for you! Narcissus was a hunter from Thespiae, known for his beauty. He was the son of the river god Cephissus and the nymph Liriope. He was a very proud man and disdained those who loved him. The goddess Nemesis, known for enacting retribution on those who succumbed to hubris, noticed his behavior and attracted Narcissus to pool, where he fell in love with his reflection. Now, because he was enchanted, he could not look away. He lost the will to live and slowly died in front of that pool, where now the beautiful narcissi flowers grow…”

 

Gyda looked to the door that lead to the garden, “You mean those flowers out there?”

 

Leon nodded gravely, “The very same.”

 

Gyda gazed at the door thoughtfully, “How incredibly sad, to waste away in front of one's own reflection.”

 

Leon laughed, “My sister thought it  _ romantic _ , and for many a time after that we would find her there, gazing upon her reflection in the water.”

 

“Is she beautiful?” Gyda asked. “Your sister.”

 

“Oh yes, very,” said Leon. “She has deep brown hair and eyes the color of chocolate. She's very tall, my Mother used to joke that she was descended from the Amazons, a fierce group of warrior women from Themyscira.”

 

“Warrior women?” Thorunn looked up. 

 

Leon laughed again, “Yes, I supposed you would like that.”

 

Footsteps sounded on the stairs.

 

Eli was coming down.

 

“Say Athelstan,” he was saying, “have you seen my--” he paused on the steps.

 

Athelstan knew what he was looking for, one of his scrolls. Leon had asked Athelstan to retrieve it from him, in order to show Gyda some vocal  _ magicks _ . The scroll in question was seated upon the little wooden table next to Leon’s chair. They had used it earlier and Gyda had done quite well. The scroll in question contained a spell that used simple glamours on one’s face, sort of a beginner step to the spell Gyda needed to learn eventually. She mastered the spell quickly, charming her face to have lines like an old lady’s, which caused a great deal of laughter from the others.

 

Eli didn’t say anything as he spied his scroll on the table. Instead, he poured himself a cup of blood offered to him by the serving girl and went to sit by Athelstan, who steadfastly ignored him.

 

“Were you looking for this?” Leon asked, holding up the scroll.

 

Eli nodded minutely, not saying a word. He seemed to cower when he was around Leon, especially since the incident.

 

“I asked Athelstan to retrieve it for me, to teach Gyda a simple glamour spell. You don’t mind, do you?” He asked, teasing a little in his voice.

 

“No!” said Eli, a little too quickly, and Athelstan and the girls smirked. Eli cleared his throat, “No. It’s fine.”

 

“Good,” Leon sat the scroll down. “Gyda did well, she made herself look like an old lady.”

 

Eli nodded, “Good. That’s good.”

 

“Have you figured out where you are going next?”

 

“Ah! Yes, yes I have.”

 

Athelstan looked up, “Where?” 

 

“Bulgaria.”

 

Leon raised a brow, “Bulgaria? What’s in Bulgaria?”

 

“Seclusion,” replied Eli. “We need to lay low for awhile, until news of our battle has died down.”

 

“And how long will that take?” asked Athelstan.

 

“A hundred years, give or take.”

 

“A hundred years?” asked Gyda, astonished.

 

“Yes. There’s a nice secluded castle there, which some of my associates are preparing for our arrival.”

 

“Oh, I wish we didn’t have to leave,” lamented Gyda. Thorunn looked put upon too and was gazing a Leon with sad eyes.

 

Leon smiled sadly, “I wish you didn’t have to leave also, but alas, the First and my sister like to check in on me every now and again and I’d hate for him to see you here.”

 

“Why do we have to avoid him?” asked Thorunn.

 

“Because  _ Eli _ made him very angry,” Leon eyed Eli, amused by his plight with the First.

 

“When do we leave?” asked Athelstan.

 

“Oh, not for another month, at least,” said Eli, looking away from Leon’s stare.

 

Thorunn nodded, a bit satisfied that at least she’d have time to give Leon a proper goodbye. He was comforting to her, in the years after Bjorn. She’d hate to have to leave him, but she always knew this romance would be short lived. 

 

“Well! I believe that’s enough storytime for one night, off to bed little one,” Leon motioned for Gyda to get up and she did, cleaning up her flower crown and giving Athelstan a hug before scampering up off to bed.

 

Leon poured himself another cup of blood and patted his lap, signalling for Thorunn to sit there. She did, happily, and buried her hands into his silky black hair. Athelstan watched as they giggled to each other and traded soft kisses, completely enamored with the other.

 

He wished he had something like that, something with Ragnar. He sighed as his mind came up with fantasies of laying in bed with Ragnar, kissing him chastely, and exchanging sweet ‘I love yous’. Hopefully, one day, it would come true. For now, he had Eli, which wasn’t a comfort at all.

* * *

 

A month later, they were preparing to go. Leon arranged a carriage for them, that Eli and Athelstan would lead into Bulgaria. They loaded it up with their many things, Eli hauling his crates of scrolls into the back. They tied everything down with  _ magick  _ rope, the knots securing tightly. Athelstan helped Gyda into the carriage, after she gave Leon a long hug.

 

“Do not worry,  _ ma petite _ ,” he said, softly caressing her hair, “we will see each other again.”

 

Gyda gazed up at him with blood filled eyes, but said nothing. She got into the carriage, Thorunn following behind after saying her own private goodbye to Leon.

 

“Well, that’s everything,” said Eli, loading up the last of crates and tying them off with  _ magick _ .

 

He hopped up on the front, gesturing Athelstan to sit beside him. Athelstan said goodbye to Leon, shaking his hand firmly.

 

“Good luck, my  _ friend _ ,” smiled Leon. “I hope your heart returns to you one day.”

 

Athelstan smiled a little at the sentiment and hopped up on the carriage.

 

“Oh, and Eli?” called Leon, just before they set off. “If I find out you haven’t been teaching  _ la petite fille magick _ , I will find you, understand?”

 

Eli nodded hesitantly and cracked at the horses, setting them into motion.

* * *

 

They traveled without stop for several days, until the hunger became too much and they stopped in a little village outside of Bulgaria. 

 

Eli took them to a little hut, holding a family of six. Athelstan didn't even flinch as they slaughtered them, unfeeling as he was now to the hunt. 

 

All the bodies drained of blood, they trashed the hut, making it look like some sort of freak animal accident before continuing on their way.

 

They arrived in the village where they were going to stay two days later, still full on that family. Eli guided the carriage into the mountain path, outside the village, where they found a large stone castle, built into the mountain side.

 

It was perfectly secluded, and seemed to guarded by those same guards that had been at the castle in Wessex!

 

“Did they follow us here?” Athelstan asked, as they went over the castle’s drawbridge and were waved through by the guards.

 

“I sent word to them,” said Eli. “That's why we had to wait a month to leave. They all had to get here and furnish this place.”

 

Gyda leaned out the window, calling to Athelstan, “It’s beautiful!”

 

Athelstan agreed with her. It was very similar in structure to the one they had lived in Wessex, although this one was bigger, looming in the rocks.

 

They climbed up the hill into the castle proper, stopping outside the great wooden door. 

 

A man stood outside the door, waiting patiently for Eli to drop down from the carriage.

 

“Eventful trip, sire?” asked the man. Athelstan noticed the man was  _ strigi _ , like them. He was young, with curly brown hair to his shoulders and bright brown eyes. He had an accent. Athelstan assumed he was from around here.

 

“Yes, very eventful,” said Eli, holding out a hand to Athelstan to help him down.

 

Athelstan looked at the hand and dropped down, ignoring it. Eli glared and took his hand away. 

 

Athelstan went to the carriage door and helped Gyda and Thorunn out of the carriage, not missing the look Thorunn sent the young man.

 

“Athelstan, Thorunn, Gyda, may I introduce my head manservant, Gavril,” he gestured to the young man, who bowed his head respectfully. “He will show you to your rooms, I have some... _ things _ I must take care of, so if you’ll excuse me.” And with that, Eli was gone down a dark hallway of the castle, carrying his crate of scrolls with him.

 

Gavril gestured for them to follow him.

 

“Your things will be taken care of,” he said as they walked down the dark corridors, the opposite way Eli had gone. 

 

They climbed a large set of stairs, coming up on another hallway, full of doors. 

 

As they walked, Athelstan asked Gavril, “How did you come to be in the employ of Eli, Gavril?”

 

“Ah, Master Eli saved me from starving to death as boy,” said Gavril, surprising Athelstan and the girls. “He offered me food in return for my service, some hundred and fifty years ago.”

 

“And then he changed you?” asked Thorunn.

 

“Yes,” said Gavril, stopping at a door. “I asked him to,  _ nay _ begged him, and he did.” He motioned at the door, “This is your room, milady,” he said to Thorunn. “Your handmaidens should arrive on the morrow.”

 

He pointed to the door across the hall, “And that, is your room milady.” He said to Gyda.

 

He moved on, motioning for Athelstan to follow.

 

“Eli’s chambers are at the end of this hall,” said Gavril. “He wrote to me and said you will be sharing them with him.”

 

_ ‘Of course he did,’ _ thought Athelstan darkly.

 

He walked through the chamber door, which Gavril graciously opened for him and surveyed the room. It was dark and musty, obviously hadn't been in use for years, although there was evidence that someone had tried to tidied it up a bit, from the freshly made bed to the dusted curtains.

 

Athelstan went and sat on the bed, reclining after a long journey east. After a while, some of the servants brought up his and Eli’s chests and he began sorting through them, pulling out his journals and ink wells.

 

He was joined shortly by Gyda, who knocked politely on his door although they both knew it was her.

 

“Come in,” he said, not looking up from where he was penning his next entry, chronicling the journey and their feast upon that family; he left out no horrid detail.

 

Gyda slipped in, immediately sliding up into his side and curling under his arm. 

 

She gazed at the journal entry, “Must you go into such detail?”

 

“Better than forgetting,” he said.

 

Gyda made a face, “I’d rather forget.”

 

Athelstan smiled sadly but said nothing. Truth was, he'd rather forget too, but thought it right penance for his many sins to be reminded of his horrible misdeeds, so he'd never forget who'd he become.

 

He inked his last sentence, then put his quill and ink away, letting the parchment dry. 

 

He turned to Gyda, “Did they bring up your things?”

 

“Yes, all of my dolls and dresses are accounted for. Eli’s even having another loom purchased for my room,” Gyda sighed, remembering her mother’s loom from so long ago.

 

“Good,” Athelstan nodded. He hugged her close to him, “Are you tired, little one?”

 

Gyda nodded, a little sleepily, “I didn't sleep well in the carriage, too bumpy.”

 

Athelstan laughed, “Ah, that it was.”

 

Gyda curled a hand into Athelstan’s shoulder length hair, gently twirling a dark brown strand around her little finger.

 

“Can I sleep in here for a while?” She asked timidly.

 

Athelstan sighed, “I don't know, Gyda…”

 

She looked at him with her big blue eyes, “Oh, please Athelstan! It's awfully lonely in my room. It’ll only be for a little bit, until Eli comes back.”

 

Athelstan looked at her, his mouth twisting.

 

“Okay,” he said and she happily slipped away from him and plopped on the bed, her dress flouncing around her.

 

She patted the space next to her, “Lay down with me.”

 

He sighed again and got up from the table and made his way to the bed, softly kneeling into the covers and laying down next to her. She grabbed his hand and started playing with his fingers, memorizing the lines on his palm.

 

“Tell me a story,” she said quietly, bunching her head on his chest.

 

Athelstan ran a hand through her loose golden waves and thought for a moment.

 

“Would you like to hear the story of the creation of the world?” He asked.

 

“Which one?” She smirked, referring to his old God and hers.

 

“Yours, of course,” he said. 

 

She nodded against his chest and he began to speak, weaving the story so familiar to her it was almost like her Mother was telling it herself again. 

 

Soon, Gyda nodded off, sleeping soundly against Athelstan’s chest. Deciding to take a page from her book, Athelstan closed his eyes and did the same.

* * *

 

They settled into the castle easily enough, falling into a similar routine like they had in Wessex. 

 

Gyda spent most of her days divided between her lady duties and  _ magick  _ lessons with Eli, with Athelstan supervising, in case he did something uncouth.

 

Slowly but surely, Gyda excelled in her lessons, soon able to levitate large objects and changing feathers into birds. 

 

Many years passed as they lived in seclusion, with the town below the castle unaware of their presence.

 

Every once in awhile, they would breeze through the town, taking what they needed for food and compelling their presence away from their minds when they were done.

 

It was an easy life, but a lonely one. Athelstan found himself missing the company of Leon and saw that the girls did too. Thorunn pleaded with Eli to let her send Leon letters but he refused, stating that no one could know where they were, until things had settled down in the supernatural community. She was displeased and threw herself into sword fighting, taking out her explosive anger on the other guardsmen, who learned to her avoid her killing blows.

 

Athelstan spent most of his days in his study, pouring over the texts Eli had until he knew them by heart. He also spent time in the training yard with Thorunn, honing his skills. He recorded everything that happened in his journal, although to be truthful, it wasn't much.

 

The years passed in quick succession, and soon the time was coming upon them to be gone once more.

 

Athelstan was glad to be gone from this seclusion, having missed seeing the world. He couldn't help the curious streak he still carried with him, even after over a hundred years of being undead.

 

They said their goodbyes to Gavril and the guards, packing up their belongings once more. This time, they were heading further east, into the Asias.

 

Gyda was excited, having read some texts from there in her spare time over the years.

 

“I think you’ll like it, Athelstan,” she said as they packed. “Great philosophies there.”

 

Athelstan smiled at her and tied down the crates. 

 

They would be traveling a lot for the next five hundred years, not staying anywhere too long, just enough to settle until it was time to move again. They went all over Europe and the Asias, accruing a large amount of knowledge. 

 

Gyda was able to finally  _ magick _ her appearance for a few days at a time by the time the fourteen hundreds came around and she was even more beautiful as a young lady. Her hair curled around her in golden waves and her form filled out beautifully. Eyes followed her wherever she went, blindsided by her beauty.

 

The one place they avoided, however, was  _ Rome _ . Athelstan wondered if it had to do with the fact that it was a vastly Christian city but Eli never said for certain, until finally, Gyda put her foot down.

 

“I want to go to Rome!” She pleaded one night, in their abode in east Germany. A painting had been brought to Eli from Rome and she had been staring at it in wonder for hours.

 

It depicted angels embroiled in a epic fight with demons, some with the heads of wolves. Gyda had searched and catalogued each individual face in her mind, fascinated by the amount of detail in the painting.

 

“Why?” Eli had demanded.

 

“I want to meet whoever created this painting and apprentice under them!” She pointed to the painting in a huff.

 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” groused Eli, turning back to his books.

 

“I think it's a  _ great  _ idea,” spoke Athelstan, taking Gyda’s hand.

 

“Me too,” said Thorunn, looking up from sharpening her blade. It was over five hundred years old but still as sharp as the day it was forged.

 

“There,” said Gyda, crossing her arms. “You’re outnumbered.” She'd become increasingly at odds with Eli as the years had waned on, for reasons unbeknownst to Athelstan.

 

Eli shot up, angry, “You three think you can overpower  _ ME _ ?!”

 

“Not overpower,” Athelstan tried to placate, “just outvote.”

 

Eli sighed, “It’s just...really not a good idea to go.”

 

“Why?” Gyda demanded. “Tell us why and we won't go.”

 

Eli only stared at her, silent.

 

Gyda was fuming, “Very well. We’re going, whether you want to or not.”

 

Eli said nothing and stalked upstairs to his shared room with Athelstan, slamming the door behind him.

 

Gyda turned back to her painting, abated. 

 

She took Athelstan’s hands, “Oh, Athelstan, I’m so excited. Do you think it will be beautiful?”

 

“Rome?” He asked. 

 

She nodded her head.

 

“Yes, I think it will be the city of our dreams…”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I covered a lot of time in this chapter with a short amount of words, but believe me, the next chapter will be exciting (I hope lol):) please feel free to leave comments, they are very much appreciated:)


	17. SEVENTEEN

_'I believe that the root of all evil is the abuse of power.'_

_\- Patricia Cornwell_

* * *

They arrived in Rome on a beautiful summer’s day. It was hot and the flies were buzzing all around. Rome was a very busy city, with people milling about everywhere. They all seemed to stop and look at the carriage that Athelstan and the others rode in as they passed, peeking in at the gorgeous strangers.

Athelstan spied the sprawling Vatican in the distance, the white building gleaming in the sun.

Gyda stared at it in awe, “It’s beautiful!”

“The man in charge is awfully corrupt though,” said Eli as he lead the horses to their villa.

“Your kind of man, then,” teased Athelstan, comfortable enough with Eli after all these years to give him a little ribbing.

Eli gave him a sideways glance but said nothing, his eyes seemed to be darting back and forth all over the streets of Rome, as if he was looking for something, or some _one_.

They arrived at their new home and the servants came bustling out, taking their things inside without a word. Athelstan helped Gyda and Thorunn from the carriage and followed Eli through the wooden doors, after one of the servants invited them inside.

Gyda was amazed, “It’s so _open_.”

She drew up the hem of her Italian style dress and ran through the villa, at a normal, human pace. She stopped when she came across the water garden, and went out into the beautiful sun, Athelstan following her.

“I knew this place would be magnificent,” said Gyda, laying upon the warm grass. Her hair glinted gold in the sunlight and Athelstan's cold, undead heart clenched at the sight of it.

Athelstan went to lay beside her, Gyda’s fingers immediately coming to clutch at his black doublet.

“Do you like it, Athelstan?” She asked.

“Oh, yes.”

“I shall like to stay here as long as possible,” Gyda announced, gazing up at the endless blue sky.

“A couple of years, at least,” agreed Athelstan.

“We could stay longer than that,” said Gyda, raising her head up off the grass. “I'm in my child form now. I could subtly change my appearance as the years go on to make it seem like I'm aging, if only to prolong our experience here.”

Athelstan said nothing, looking up at the sky. After a while, Gyda spoke again.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, smirking at him.

Feeding had become quite natural to them. They no longer felt the human remorse, taking without feeling sorry about it. Athelstan sometimes wondered what it meant for his soul, but as the years passed by, it seemed less and less of an importance to him. He remembered the words of Leon, spoken so long ago.

He was of the Devil.

“Yes,” he smirked. He stood up and offered a hand to Gyda, who took it without a second thought.

They walked back inside, hand in hand, and spotted Eli instructing the servants to hang the painting Gyda had loved on the wall in the open sitting room.

“We are going out,” said Athelstan. “You want anything to _eat_?”

Eli turned to them and smirked, “Bring me back something _delicious_.”

Athelstan nodded and lead Gyda out of the villa and onto the crowded streets of Rome. It was teeming with life. Luckily, their bloodlust had significantly abated over the years and it was easy to pass through the throngs of people. They didn't go undetected though; many people stared as these two beautiful creatures walked the streets.

“How about that one?” Athelstan asked, pointing to an old woman begging for coppers.

“Maybe,” Gyda mused. “No one would notice she's gone.”

They kept looking, endless choices amongst the hordes of people. Finally, they knew who to choose. They heard the commotion all the way from down the street, a woman begging for her life.

Athelstan and Gyda shared a look, and walked quickly to the source of the noise, finding a scared looking young woman being cornered by three scary men in a dark alley. They came up behind them, silently.

“You know,” began Athelstan, startling them, “it’s impolite to scare such a beautiful young woman, some might think you uncouth.”

The men glared at him, pulling daggers from their leather pouches.

“Stay out of this, _ragazzo carino_ ,” spat one of the men.

Athelstan smirked and the demon inside roared with laughter at their words. As if they could hurt him.

In a flash, Athelstan grabbed the one who spoke by the neck and lifted him off the ground. His strength had multiplied considerably over the years, making these men no match for him. The other two men startled and tried to attack him, but Gyda flashed in front of them and threw them up against the wall, baring her fangs. The frightened young woman curled up in on herself, not wanting to witness this.

The man Athelstan held by the throat was fading fast, trying and failing to pierce him with his dagger before Athelstan knocked it away. He felt his eyes change color and bared his fangs, the man’s eyes going wide. He buried his fangs into the man's neck, tasting the sweet blood on his lips.

Gyda followed suit, quickly devouring one of the men and incapacitating the other, for Eli and Thorunn. Athelstan quickly drained the man of his blood, letting him fall dead to the ground. He heard the woman’s whimpers and turned to her.

He walked slowly, surely to her, trying to make himself seem as unthreatening as possible, despite what had just happened. The woman tried to crawl away; her foot was badly injured, having tripped when the men were pursuing her.

Athelstan held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. He knelt down before the woman, saying, “It's alright, _bella_. I'm not going to hurt you.”

The woman gazed up at him with her impossibly large brown eyes, tears staining her cheeks.

“Here,” he said, looking into her eyes, “ _let me help you_.”

She calmed, under his spell. Gyda watched intently as he bit his wrist and offered it to the woman.

“To heal you. Please, _drink_.”

The woman took his wrist without a second thought, swallowing the blood. After a few sips, her foot began to right itself and Athelstan took his wrist away. He helped the woman up on unsteady feet.

“Please, what is your name?” He asked.

“I-Isabella,” she stammered. She looked no older than sixteen, and incredibly beautiful, although her beauty did nothing for him personally.

“What should we do with him?” asked Gyda, gesturing to the one man they left alive.

“Compel him to go to the villa, so Eli and Thorunn can have their _meal_ ,” said Athelstan. Then he turned back to Isabella, “Now, I want you to _forget everything you saw here_ . _Go home_.”

She nodded dumbly and stumbled out of his grasp, walking out of the alley and back onto the street.

“That was awfully kind of you,” said Gyda, after compelling the man.

“I wasn't going to kill her. She was innocent.”

“Out of all of us, you cling to your humanity in the oddest of ways,” commented Gyda, taking his hand again.

They walked back out onto the street, completely undetected by the oblivious passers bys.

They went back to the villa, where they found Eli and Thorunn enjoying the man they sent.

“Well done, you two,” said Eli, after he had his fill. “Where did you find this... _filthy_ creature?”

Gyda and Athelstan exchanged a look. A silent understanding passed through them: they would not tell Eli about Athelstan saving the life of Isabella.

“In an alleyway,” said Gyda. “No one would miss him.”

Eli glanced at the now dead man sprawled lifeless across the floor.

“Hmm,” he said, shrugging. He turned to one of the guardsmen stationed at the door, the very same ones that had been with them all these years. “Dispose of the body. And for God’s sake, do it _discreetly_.”

The guard nodded and picked up the dead body effortlessly in his arms, carrying him away.

“What now?” asked Thorunn, wiping the blood away from her mouth.

“Now,” Eli smirked, “I'm going to take Athelstan up to our room to get _reacquainted_.”

Athelstan and the girls rolled their eyes, but he took the hand that was offered. Eli lead him up the stairs into their beautiful open bedroom and he pushed him down onto the featherbed, kicking the door shut behind him.

He loomed over Athelstan with hungry eyes, flashing red and black.

“How long has it been?” He asked teasingly as nipped at Athelstan’s neck.

_‘Not long enough.’_

“A week,” answered Athelstan.

Eli tutted, “Too long.”

He ripped open Athelstan’s doublet, buttons flying. He hiked up his white undershirt and began kissing his chest. Moans started to rise unbidden in Athelstan and he fought to keep them in.

It didn't work.

Eli latched onto a nipple and sucked, shocking a moan out of him. Athelstan closed his eyes and imagined it was someone else pleasuring him, someone with expressive blue eyes and the most gorgeous smile he'd ever seen.

Eli yanked off Athelstan’s undershirt, leaving his upper body bare. Then he leaned down and captured his lips with his own. He quickly snuck his tongue inside, tasting him.

“Ugh!” groaned Eli. “You taste _divine_!”

They kissed again, Athelstan seeing another face in his head. He gripped Eli’s shoulders tight as he started biting his neck, eliciting more moans out of him.

With a grin, Eli extended his fangs and bit down, hard. Athelstan gasped and jerked in his hold.

Eli pulled away with a smirk on his lips, a little bit of the blood that ran through Athelstan’s veins staining his mouth. He could already feel the bite healing.

Eli removed his own doublet and undershirt in a quick movement, showing off his muscled chest. He grabbed one of Athelstan’s hands and ran it down the center of his chest, stopping at the tops of his breeches.

Knowing what he wanted, Athelstan gained some momentum and flipped them over, so he was on top.

Eli quirked a brow, a smile playing on his lips, “You know I love it when you’re on top.”

Athelstan gave a sly smirk and began kissing down his chest, unlacing his breeches with his hands. He pulled them down, exposing Eli’s rigid cock.

It was thick and dark, happy for the attention. Closing his eyes, Athelstan wrapped his lips around it, sucking him into his mouth.

Eli gasped and lifted his hips off the bed.

Athelstan took him all the way down, until he was hitting the back of his throat. He didn't gag. He sucked him in earnest, trying to get him off hard and fast, but Eli would have none of that.

“Uh, uh, ah,” teased Eli, lifting him off his cock. “I'm not coming until I'm buried deep inside you.”

Athelstan had to fight to not roll his eyes. Of course Eli would be like that. He unlaced Athelstan’s breeches, exposing his bare ass.

He snuck a finger around his puckered hole, teasing him thoroughly.

“Got any of that oil?” Athelstan ground out.

At lighting speed, Eli was up off the bed then back again, carrying a familiar vial of oil.

He poured some on his fingers, then slipped a digit inside. Athelstan clenched his jaw, damning himself for allowing him to feel this good.

He rode his finger until Eli added another, stretching him. He gasped as he felt those fingers brush up against his sensitive spot.

Eli grinned, “There we are.”

He teased his spot a few more times, ripping shudders from Athelstan as the pleasure began to mount. Eli slipped in one final finger, scissoring him open.

Deciding that was enough, he removed his fingers and slicked up his cock, Athelstan holding him down as slowly sank down. He let out a stuttered gasp as Eli buried himself to the hilt.

Eli grasped his hips, hard enough to leave bruises if Athelstan was still human, and began to move, not allowing Athelstan to get used to the intrusion.

He quickly began a bruising pace, fucking into him deeply. Athelstan fell against Eli’s chest, overcome by the sensations. They fucked quickly, both of them now desperate for release.

Eli grabbed Athelstan’s face and pulled him into another kiss, forcing his tongue inside. Athelstan couldn't help himself; he moaned as his cock hit his spot over and over again.

“You going to come?” Eli panted.

“Yes!” moaned Athelstan, pushing his hips down to create more friction.

Eli began fucking him even faster, if that was even possible. The red hot coil in Athelstan’s belly was threatening to unfurl any second now.

A few more thrusts and Athelstan was coming all over Eli’s stomach. Eli groaned out loud at the sight and spilled his seed deep inside Athelstan. They stilled, both gathering themselves for a few moments. Eli pulled him into one final kiss, this time chaste, which always made Athelstan uncomfortable.

Slowly, after they pulled away, Athelstan let Eli’s cock slip out him and he collapsed beside him on the bed.

“That was good, no?” Eli teased, sitting up and stretching his limbs. He got out of bed and slipped on his red robe from one of his chests. He stepped out to the wide open window and gazed out on the streets below.

Athelstan didn't answer. Instead, he asked, “What are you looking for?”

Eli inclined his head towards Athelstan, “You never miss a thing, do you?”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

Athelstan huffed and Eli laughed cruelly.

“Do not think,” he said, “that because you warm my bed, that I will divulge all of my secrets.”

Athelstan groused but said nothing, instead burrowing himself under the sheets. He closed his eyes and let himself drift for awhile…

* * *

They spent the next month getting comfortable in their new surroundings, and many years later, when it was all over, Athelstan suspected that was exactly what _he_ wanted them to do.

Gyda loved Rome; the sights and smells, the _people_. There was no limit to what she could do in the city. She collected doves, took dancing lessons, snuck into the grand libraries and picked through their collections of scrolls and books, with the help of Athelstan.

Athelstan poured over the texts he found, finding there was no quenching his thirst for knowledge. He read the long dead philosophies of the Greeks, and their histories, finding himself thinking of Leon more often than not.

Thorunn entertained herself with many men, stringing them along. They fell at her feet with endless worship, in awe of her light beauty. Gyda was attracting stares as well, though Athelstan always protected her from the leers of the disgusting men who roamed the streets. He had no doubt that Gyda could take care of herself but it made him feel better to give her some semblance of protection.

Eli was the only one who seemed on edge in the city, looking over his shoulder wherever he went, and one night, Athelstan found out exactly why that was.

They were invited to a masquerade party. A footman had arrived at their villa two weeks into their stay, carrying a handmade invitation for them to join in the festivities at the Vatican.

Athelstan was a little unsure at first.

“What of all the crucifixes?” He asked, when Eli had surprised him and told them they were going.

“As long as we don't get close, they can't hurt us,” replied Eli.

“I want to go,” said Gyda.

Athelstan sighed, he could never deny Gyda anything.

“So what are we going to wear?” He asked.

Eli commissioned a seamstress to create beautiful dressing gowns of silk for them. Eli was going as Ares, the god war, with a blood red robe with gold accents. Athelstan decided to be Coeus, a Titan of myth, with a pitch black robe with starlight embedded in the fabric. Gyda wanted to match him, so she went as Phoebe, Coeus’ wife. She wore a silken white Greek style dress, with a deep blue shawl over her shoulders. In her hair, situated a moon diadem. Thorunn went as Artemis, goddess of the hunt. She wore a short, Greek hunting dress, which showed off her beautiful legs.

They walked, arm in arm, that night to the Vatican. It was filled with people, all dressed in beautiful gowns and robes, all masquerading as figures from Greek mythology.

A footman at the door invited them inside, and they walked into the great ballroom.

Gyda looked around her in awe, “It's _amazing_!”

“Yes, it is quite impressive, isn't it, young one?” spoke a deep voice behind them.

It was the Pope himself! On the arm of a gorgeous woman, the infamous Giulia Farnese.

Gyda dropped into a deep bow, Athelstan and the others following suit. Athelstan felt a little uncomfortable at being in front of God’s chosen, when he himself was so far removed from Him, but he said nothing, keeping his mask in place.

“Ah, Phoebe and Coeus,” said Guilia. “Are you two together?”

If Gyda could blush, she would have but instead she said, “Oh no, he's just my brother. I insisted we match.”

Guilia laughed and looked at Rodrigo, “Yes, we know of some siblings like _that_.”

Rodrigo frowned, “They did not match tonight, Lucrezia _insisted_ on going as Echo.”

Gyda’s eyes lit up, “From the story of Narcissus?”

He smiled, “You know your histories.” He looked around and smiled regretfully, “If you’ll excuse us, there are some patrons that need my attention.”

They bowed again and watched them walk off. Athelstan had to fight back a smirk as he heard Rodrigo remark to Guilia, “Have you ever seen anybody as beautiful as them?”

Gyda lead Athelstan to dance, both of them thoroughly enjoying themselves. As they were dancing, Athelstan noticed that two people were staring at them, deep in the crowd.

They were a couple, that much was obvious. They were dressed as Hades and Persephone respectively, wrapped up in on each other as they stared. Athelstan couldn't tell what they looked like, their faces obscured by masks like everyone else.

“Some people are staring,” whispered Athelstan to Gyda as they circled around each other.

Gyda looked around, “Who?”

Athelstan indicated his head in the direction of the couple but when he looked up, they were gone.

“Huh,” he said. “They’re gone. That's odd.”

“Maybe they noticed they got caught,” teased Gyda. “You can be scary sometimes, you know.”

Athelstan smirked, “As can you.”

They finished dancing and went to rejoin Eli and Thorunn, who were dazzling a group of people.

“Ah! My brother and sister finally decided to join us again,” smirked Eli, introducing them to the people they were entertaining.

“Did you enjoy the dancing?” He teased, taking a sip of his wine.

“Oh, yes,” said Gyda. “Athelstan said he caught some people staring.”

“Oh?” Eli raised his brows. “Who?”

“I don't know, I couldn't see their faces,” said Athelstan.

“Well, it is a masquerade,” said Eli, lifting his glass to the others.

“They were dressed like Hades and Persephone,” said Athelstan, watching as Eli’s content face fell slightly.

“Um, if you will excuse us one moment,” said Eli to their friends. He grabbed Athelstan by the arm and pulled him away, indicating that Thorunn and Gyda follow.

“What? What's wrong?” asked Athelstan as Eli held him in a vice-like grip.

“We need to leave, _now_!” exclaimed Eli.

“What?” asked Gyda, indignant. “Why?”

“I knew this would happen!” raged Eli. “He found us!” He seemed increasingly panicked.

“Who?”

Eli stopped once they were outside the Vatican, ripping off his mask.

He turned wild eyes onto them, “Who do you think?”

Athelstan was aghast.

“ _The First_?” He whispered, suddenly scared.

“Yes, and we need to get out Rome _now_!” Eli turned to stalk back to their villa but was stopped by a group of men, who had advanced upon them without being heard.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, _Eli_ ,” sneered the leader, removing his mask.

Athelstan realized with a start that he was a _strigi,_ in fact all of them were, as they removed their masks. Athelstan pushed Gyda behind him, trying to protect to her.

The man noticed, “It’s pointless, you know. You can't run and you can't protect her.”

Lighting fast, the man and his fellow strigi were upon them, grabbing their hands and tying them with some sort of rope that burned their skin. Athelstan struggled uselessly in their hold as he heard Gyda scream in pain. Black hoods were forced over their heads, then they could see no more.

They were pulled down several streets and alleyways for what felt like hours, then they were descending stairs down into somewhere dank and dark. Finally, they were stopped and their hoods were pulled off roughly. The ropes stayed on though.

“Why are these ropes burning my hands?” cried Gyda, struggling in vain to get out of them.

“They doused them in holy water,” gritted Eli through his teeth.

“And they are _magicked_ ,” said the man who had attacked them. “So it's futile to try and escape.”

Athelstan gazed at their surroundings, trying to block out the pain in his hands. They were standing in dark hallway, lit by torches in the walls. Before them was a large wooden set of doors.

The man who attacked them nodded once and the doors opened, to reveal a long room, empty except for guards standing at the doors. At the end of the large room was a blood red throne, and Athelstan felt a shiver of fear run through him.

“Announcing,” said the man, “ _Eliman_ , The First, King of all _Strigi_.”

_Eliman_.

So that was his name.

Eli stilled completely as they heard the sound of feet walking slowly, measured as they made their way to the throne.

With a start, Athelstan realized as he stared at the man who sat fluidly down onto his throne, that it was the same man who was staring at him during the masquerade.

_Hades_.

He wasn't wearing his mask, but was still robed in his fine clothes, the deep black and purple fitting him beautifully. Eliman was gorgeous, with short curly hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to stare right into his soul, even from all the way from the other side of the room. He was a big man, incredibly muscled yet still seemed lithe.

Finally, Eliman spoke, his voice like melted gold.

“Hello, Eli,” he smirked, his smile the same as Eli’s, wicked.

Eli was looking at the floor, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the fear on his face.

“Hello, Father,” gritted Eli through his teeth, terrified for the first time in a long time.

Eliman reclined on his throne, looking incredibly regal.

“You’ve been _very naughty_ , Eli,” he tutted, feigning hurt. “Fighting with me, stealing my scrolls, and then running away. You’ve been a _terrible_ pain.”

Eli said nothing, still looking at the floor.

“And now,” continued Eliman, “you've broken a cardinal rule. The one thing I cannot forgive: creating a _child strigi_. How very stupid.” He looked at Gyda and said to his guards, “Take her to the cells.”

Gyda screamed as the guards ambushed her, pulling her away kicking in vain.

“No!” Athelstan yelled, trying to stop them, but the other guards held him tight.

“It's useless to resist,” said Eliman, sounding bored. “My guards are much older than you, much older than even Eli here.”

“It wasn't Eli!” yelled Athelstan. “It was me! I was the one who raised Gyda. Please, just don't hurt her.”

Eliman smirked and stood up from His throne. In a movement so fast even Athelstan’s eyes couldn't pick up, He was standing in front of them, having moved all the way down the hall. Athelstan stiffened as He got into his space, not daring to move an inch.

“I know,” He said, inclining his head. “You don't think Eli is the only one with eyes and ears everywhere, do you?” His eyes fluttered as He stared them down, “I've been watching you for a _long_ time.”

“ _You_ are Thorunn, correct?” Eliman turned his focus to Thorunn, who had been standing silently beside Athelstan. He ran a finger down her face and she fought back a repulsed shiver, “Slave girl turned shieldmaiden turned Mother turned _strigi_ . And my, are you _beautiful_.”

Then He looked to Athelstan, “And you are Athelstan, monk turned Viking turned _Christian_ ,” He spat the word as if literal venom was passing through His lips.

Then He turned thoughtful, saying, “You know my Father, He’s very much interested in you.”

Athelstan stiffened, “You mean...the _Devil_?” It came out in a barely concealed horrified whisper.

Eliman smirked, “I suppose Eli never told you.”

Athelstan turned to glare at Eli, who was decidedly looking elsewhere.

“Tell me _what_?” He demanded.

Eliman tilted His head, “The real reason why he turned you. He wasn't interested in seeing _Ragnar Lothbrok_ at all...he was looking specifically for you.” He pointed His finger into Athelstan’s chest, shoving him slightly. It hurt, a lot.

“ _Why_?” Athelstan ground out, but he already knew the answer he feared.

“You know why. My _Father_ wanted you out of the way.”

“Why was I a threat?” Athelstan had to ask.

“Because,” Eliman said, “you were foretold to be a great _Christian_ , and my Father couldn't have that, so...He pointed Eli in the right direction.”

Athelstan glared at Eli, feeling all those years of hate for him rise up again.

“As a _strigi_ , you are no longer under _Yahweh’s_ protection, susceptible to the demon inside.”

Eliman gazed into Athelstan’s soul, seeing the fear on his face, “What’s wrong? Know I'm right?”

Athelstan said nothing, looking away from his piercing blue eyes.

Eliman gave a big, unneeded sigh, “Well, anyway, enough of this _family drama_. You, my dear Athelstan, must face a choice.”

“A choice?” Athelstan choked out.

“Yes,” Eliman smirked, then He tilted His head, listening. He smiled His first genuine smile. It was disconcerting to say the least. “But first, my wife wants to speak with you.”

Before Athelstan could say anything, the guards were dragging him down the hall, past the throne and through another set of doors. They passed several doors, and Athelstan could swear he heard the laughter of several women behind one of them. They stopped at the last door down the dark hallway and one of the guards knocked on the door.

A musical, accented voice answered, “Bring him in.”

The guards opened the doors and shoved him inside, closing it quickly behind him. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the woman in room, lounging on the _diphroi_ . She was still dressed in her deep purple _peplos_.

_Persephone_.

Athelstan figured it was fitting.

The woman was beautiful, with deep olive skin and expressive brown eyes. She was tall and graceful, an absolute sight to behold. Her long brown hair was curled and fashioned in several braids atop her head. A necklace the color of pomegranates adorned her slender neck.

“You-you’re Leon’s sister,” stuttered Athelstan, afraid of this gorgeous woman.

She smiled, a beautiful quirk of her lips, “Yes, I am. And you’re Athelstan, the one everybody is making such a fuss about.” She gestured to a cushioned chair, “Please, _sit_. I won't bite.” Her laughter tinkled in the air around them.

Athelstan slowly sat, eyeing her suspiciously. If she was married to the Devil’s son, there was no way she was good. She was probably just as dangerous.

She smiled warmly and reached for him. He flinched away but she grabbed his hands, tight in her grip. She was about a thousand times stronger than him.

“Peace,” she said, smiling warmly. “I just want to remove these awful ropes from your hands.” With graceful fingers, she untied them, not even flinching as they burned her. She threw the rope across the room, where they landed on the cold hard floor.

“My name is Airlea,” she said, taking his hands in hers. She ran a light finger over his palm, reading the life lines. “You are afraid. Don't be.”

“He has Gyda,” said Athelstan. “I can't let her die!”

Airlea tutted, “She’s an Immortal Child. The one rule we _strigi_ are forbidden to break. It's a wonder He waited so long to strike.”

Athelstan knew why. He wanted to see them squirm. It was obvious Eliman delighted in the power He held over them.

“But she's not an Immortal Child,” insisted Athelstan. “If this is about her bloodlust, she has it under control.”

Airlea glanced up at him, still holding his palm and said, “I know.”

Athelstan scoffed, “I suppose _He_ knows too.”

“Yes.”

“So _He’s_ just...fucking with us, delighting in our pain, right?”

Airlea suddenly gripped his hand, breaking it sideways. He cried out in pain.

“Careful,” she warned, her voice light. “Don't talk about my husband that way.”

“Why do you love him?” Athelstan ground out through the pain. “He's a _monster_!”

Airlea gazed right through him, “Aren't we all?”

Athelstan said nothing, righting his hand back in place.

A scream reverberated down the hall; it sounded like Eli.

Airlea smirked, “It seems He’s finally taking his revenge on Eli. He really hurt Him, you know.”

Athelstan hesitated for a moment, then said, “He said, I have to make a choice. What choice?”

“Between your last scraps of humanity and the life of your precious Gyda,” smirked Airlea, standing up gracefully and picking up the rope from the floor.

“What do you mean?” Athelstan demanded as she bound his hands again, tight.

Airlea smiled knowingly but said nothing.

“You can take him back to my husband now,” she called and the guards came through again, pulling him from the chair and pushing him back down the hallway.

Athelstan was brought back to the throne room, where Eliman was beating Eli senselessly into the ground, with Thorunn watching horrified.

Eliman had Eli by the hair, slamming his face into the rock floor, it forming craters whenever his face collided with the floor.

“Please,” Eli was choking out, “please Father, _stop_.”

“Why should I?” Eliman demanded, throwing him across the room, where he landed against the wall.

“Because I'm your _son_!” Eli pleaded.

That paused Eliman, but He quickly shook out of it, saying, “You've been _nothing_ but a disappointment since the day I got your _whore_ of a Mother pregnant. I should just kill you and save everyone the same.”

He flashed forward and raised His hand to strike through Eli’s heart but Athelstan stopped Him, yelling, “Wait! What is the choice I have to make?”

Eliman turned to him, smiling, “To save your precious Gyda, you have to choose either Thorunn or Eli to take her place.”

“You mean, so that you can kill them?”

“Yes.”

Athelstan looked at Eli, “If I chose Eli, would you really kill him?”

Eli shook his head, backing against the wall, frightened.

Eliman’s answer surprised him, “No, I wouldn't.”

Athelstan felt his heart drop as realized what he had to do. He had to save Gyda, no matter the cost. Even if that cost was the last shred of humanity he had left in him.

“Very well,” said Athelstan. He saw Thorunn tremble, seeing the decision in his eyes. “I choose _Thorunn_.”

Eliman flashed to Athelstan, “Are you certain?”

Athelstan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, before opening them and grinding out, “ _Yes_.”

“No!”  Thorunn yelled, trying to run, but the guards stopped her. Athelstan tried to shut himself off from her pleas of mercy, as they forced her to her knees. “Please! Don't kill me! Please! Athelstan! Don't do this! Please!”

Eliman waved his hand and Athelstan and Eli’s ropes fell loosely from their hands, “Go. Leave. Gyda will be safely returned to you outside the catacombs.” He turned to Eli, “Never come here again, or I _will_ kill you, son or no.”

Eli scrambled to his feet and flashed out of the catacombs, leaving Athelstan in his wake.

Eliman turned to Athelstan, “I won't say it again, unless you want to watch your pretty friend _die_?”

Athelstan took Eliman’s small mercy and ran out the catacombs after Eli, ignoring Thorunn’s screams as Eliman advanced on her.

He found Eli outside the catacombs, waiting for him. He still looked shaken.

Athelstan rounded on him, grabbing him by the throat, “You bastard! Why did you never tell me?”

“Would you have believed me if I did?” choked Eli, before twisting Athelstan’s arm away.

“Athelstan!” yelled a voice, running up the steps through the catacombs.

It was Gyda, looking none the worse for wear. She launched herself into Athelstan’s arms and he held her tight, breathing in her scent.

“You're okay,” he said, cradling her face. “You're okay. I wasn't going to let them hurt you.”

Gyda looked around, “Where’s Thorunn?”

Athelstan clenched his jaw, and exchanged a look with Eli, who said nothing.

“She's dead,” Athelstan said. “She gave up her life to save yours.”

Gyda gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, tears forming in her eyes, “ _No_!”

“No time for tears now,” said Eli, pushing off the wall. “We need to leave, _now,_ before He changes His mind.”

So they left, without a trace as to where they were going. Athelstan gazed out the carriage window as they burned out of Rome, holding Gyda in his arms, and he knew, without a doubt, that this experience changed him.

He was the monster that he'd feared he'd become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ragazzo carino - pretty boy
> 
> I just wanted to let you guys know who I personally headcanon as my OCs, so y'all can visualize them:
> 
> Eli - Oscar Isaac  
> Leon - Dev Patel  
> Eliman - Henry Cavill  
> Airlea - Gal Gadot
> 
> and yes, that is the Borgias, from the Showtime TV show; I love them, so I had to lol


	18. EIGHTEEN

_ 'Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.' _

_ -Voltaire _

* * *

 

The guilt was eating Athelstan alive.

 

It was gnawing at his insides, mean and violent, as they made their way across the English Channel and back into Athelstan’s homeland.

 

He could still hear Thorunn’s screams echoing in his head as he held Gyda tight to him, afraid that if he let go, she'd slip away and back into the First’s hands.

 

_ The First _ …

 

He was an evil, evil man. Athelstan now knew for certain where Eli had gotten it from, his cocky, self-important attitude and his sadistic streak that ran a mile wide in each direction. His wife was no different, having no problem with breaking Athelstan’s hand if he spoke out of turn or against her husband. 

 

If Athelstan never saw them again, it'd be too soon.

 

He didn't even want to think about what He did to Thorunn, hoping that they granted her a quick death, but even as he hoped, he knew it was misplaced. The First enjoyed watching people suffer, He was the Devil’s son after all.

 

They crossed back over into England and made their way back to Eli’s castle, except it wasn't there anymore. It was in ruins. Athelstan couldn't help but feel the vindictive happiness at Eli seeing his once beautiful castle, reduced to a pile of rocks.

 

“Where do we go now?” Athelstan asked, as Eli stared unseeingly at the ruins of the castle.

 

“Berkshire,” answered Eli after a moment, clearing his throat from the breakage in it. He was trying so very hard not to cry.

 

“What's in Berkshire?” asked Gyda, holding Athelstan’s hand close to her.

 

“The King.”

 

They hurried to Berkshire, stopping only to feed and to clothe themselves in the proper English garb. Gyda complained halfheartedly about the corset but her spirit wasn't really in it after everything that had happened. Athelstan hated to see the haunted look in her eyes. He knew she blamed herself for insisting they go to Rome.

 

Athelstan tried to console her on their way to Berkshire, but Gyda was having none of it. She was certain that Thorunn died because of her silly childishness. Oh, how badly Athelstan wanted to tell her the truth but he was afraid. Afraid that she'd look at him with anything other than loving adoration in her eyes.

 

They arrived at Windsor castle in the middle of the night. Eli had them park their carriage in the woods and wait on him to return with someone who could invite Athelstan and Gyda inside.

 

“What about you?” asked Gyda, her head on Athelstan’s shoulder.

 

“I've already been invited in, many years ago,” replied Eli and with that, he disappeared into the dark of night.

 

“Athelstan?” Gyda whispered once he was gone.

 

“Yes, my love?” Athelstan ran a hand down her golden hair, pulling her close to him.

 

“I miss them,” her voice cracked with emotion.

 

Athelstan knew who she was referring to: her Father, Mother, brother, and Thorunn.

 

“I miss them too,” said Athelstan, doing everything in his power to keep his voice even.

 

Gyda lifted her head from his shoulder, studying at his face, “Especially my Father.”

 

Athelstan didn't say anything, trying to keep his face impassive.

 

“You cannot deny it,” Gyda said. “I know you love him.”

 

Athelstan looked at her, “More than I love you?” He tried to smile but he was sure it came out more of a grimace.

 

Gyda smiled sadly in the dark of the carriage, “Yes, I believe it’s so. And I believe he loved you too.”

 

Athelstan’s heart leapt at that. He knew that Ragnar loved him, but to hear it from his daughter, who'd only witnessed them for a short time, was something indescribable.

 

“How could you know that?” Athelstan asked.

 

“It was obvious in the way he looked at you,” replied Gyda matter-of-factly.

 

“Even in my days as a slave?”

 

“Yes. Even then.”

 

Athelstan wanted to ask more but they were interrupted by Eli knocking on the carriage door, looking slightly put out. He must have heard their conversation, or part of it at least. 

 

A group of servants were following him and helped unload their things. Eli lead Athelstan and Gyda up to the entrance of the large castle where a man was waiting at the door. He seemed to have been roused from his sleep, being in a night shift and fur-lined robe. The man didn't seemed bothered by it, in fact he looked a little dazed. He must have been compelled.

 

“Athelstan, Gyda,” began Eli, “may I introduce His Majesty, King Henry II.”

 

Gyda and Athelstan quickly bowed, showing their reverence for him. The man bowed in return, smiling tiredly.

 

“How very pleased I am to meet Lord Eli’s siblings,” King Henry said. “Please, do come inside and enjoy the warmth from my hearth. Your things will be brought to your chambers.”

 

The King had some of his manservants lead the trio down a series of passageways until they came upon the guest chambers. For the first time ever, Athelstan was given his own chambers. He suspected it had something to do with not arousing suspicion, in a Christian run castle. He had no doubt, however, that Eli would sneak into his rooms whenever he saw fit.

 

When the servants brought their things into their respective rooms, Athelstan deliberated on whether or not to pull out his journal and chronicle the events that happened in Rome. His stomach clenched in agony at the thought of recounting what happened, down to the last gory detail. He stared at his journal for a long time, before giving a large unneeded sigh, and opening it up.

 

As expected, Eli came sneaking into Athelstan’s rooms just as Athelstan was finishing in his journal. Eli came up behind him at his wooden desk and placed his hands on his shoulders, rubbing almost gently. Athelstan stilled and tried to brush him off.

 

“I don't want to do this tonight, Eli,” said Athelstan, slamming his journal closed and standing up from his chair. 

 

“Awh, come on, Athelstan,” Eli rounded around the chair and was in front of him, blocking Athelstan’s way to his chest of clothes.

 

“I said  _ no _ , Eli,” Athelstan bit out, trying to go around him but Eli grabbed his shoulders, holding him firmly in place.

 

“But  _ why _ ?” asked Eli, acting genuinely confused at Athelstan’s behavior.

 

“ _ Why?” _ Athelstan scoffed, feeling heat rising up from beneath his skin. It was scorching, red hot, and angry. “I don't know, maybe because of the fact that you  _ lied to me _ !”

 

Eli rolled his eyes, “I always lie to you, Athelstan. I thought you'd be used to it by now.”

 

Athelstan shook his head, disbelieving of Eli’s audacity.

 

“He was right,” he muttered under his breath, remembering the dream he had from so long ago, when he saw Ragnar again after his own death and the warning he gave.

 

_ He's not telling you the whole truth, Athelstan. His actions will be the cause of your ruin! _

 

Athelstan was ruined, he knew that now. That deep, dark part of him was so easily let out these days, and he couldn't even bring himself to care. What he did to Thorunn was unforgivable. He deserved to be this monster, this  _ abomination _ .

 

“Who was right?” asked Eli, his hands still gripping Athelstan’s shoulders.

 

“The First,” Athelstan only half-lied. “The last shreds of my humanity are gone, with the choice I was forced to make. I'm a monster.”

 

Eli sighed and released Athelstan’s shoulders, “Then let's be monsters, Athelstan,  _ together _ .”

* * *

From then on, Athelstan was a changed person. More quick to kill and to harm. He gave over to the demon inside of him, finding it easier to cope with the overwhelming guilt he felt.

 

To an outsider, Athelstan seemed the perfect English gentleman, with an air of grace and formality some only dreamed of having. Inside, however, he was dark and twisted, sometimes finding himself delighting in the pain of others. The only person he was even remotely the same with was Gyda, wanting to be her perfect white knight, although he knew it was a lie.

 

However, when Athelstan began to change, so did Gyda. She became indifferent to brutality, joining Eli and Athelstan in their torment of others. She enjoyed luring people in with her childlike sweetness, before burying her fangs into their necks and ending their lives.

 

They all became the monsters Athelstan feared they would be, and gladly, as if it were a relief to finally be rid of their pesky humanity. When one gave over to their baser instincts, you felt nothing. This was a welcome reprieve to all, after feeling everything for so long.

 

They breezed through the English countryside, taking pleasure in their kills as they went. 

 

Gyda convinced them to go back North, back to her homeland. She wanted to see how much it had changed since she'd last seen it, over 700 years ago. 

 

They traveled to Denmark and resided in Copenhagen for a time, before moving on. They tried to find Kattegat, or the remains of it, for they knew that the Vikings were long gone now. 

 

They didn't find it. 

 

They traveled to Spain, Africa, even back to Italy, though they avoided Rome like the plague.

 

Eventually, they came back to France, in the 1700s. Gyda wanted to participate in the Rococo fashion of the times and Athelstan was loathe to disappoint her. He loved to see the smile light up her beautiful face, reminding him so brilliantly of his lost love.

 

They arrived at Versailles on a beautiful spring day, the flowers were all in bloom, with bees buzzing about. Gyda was in her young adult form, dressed in a beautiful gown of pink silk with a wide skirt. She no longer complained of the corset, having become accustomed to them. Her golden hair had been arranged in curls atop her head, in the style of the times, with one lone curl draped beside her slender neck.

 

Athelstan’s hair had remained relatively the same all these years, although he had shaved his beard recently, discovering that it was no longer in style. He wore a black coat and waistcoat, with silver patterns adoring it. His breeches were of the same color. He kept his hair curled and tied back with a silver ribbon out of his face. He looked absolutely enchanting. 

 

And that was the point.

 

Eli got them access into the palace, under the guise of being foreign diplomats come to stay for an indeterminate period of time while the dauphin of France was expecting his new bride.

 

“Do you think she’s beautiful?” asked Gyda nonchalantly as they were shown to their chambers.

 

“Not as beautiful as you,” replied Athelstan and Gyda hid her smile behind her decorated fan.

 

To their surprise, waiting for them in the common room attached to their chambers, was none other than Leon! He looked relatively unchanged, except his style of fashion, of course. He was dressed as the epitome of a French nobleman, with his face smooth like Athelstan and Eli’s and the curls set into his hair that were of popularity.

 

He smiled when he saw them and held out his arms to Gyda, who rushed into them without pause.

 

“Leon!” She exclaimed, hugging him tightly. “It's been so long!”

 

Leon laughed and stroked the lone curl on her neck, “ _ Oui _ , it has  _ ma petite _ .”

 

Gyda made a face, “I'm not  _ ma petite  _ anymore. Do you see how much I've grown?”

 

“Yes, in more ways than one.”

 

They didn't ask him what he meant by that. It was obvious he saw the change in them, as he saw it in himself many lifetimes ago.

 

“What are you doing here?” asked Athelstan lightly.

 

“I could ask you the same question,” said Leon. Blessedly, he did not ask for the whereabouts of Thorunn. Athelstan assumed he already knew.

 

“I wanted to see the fashion,” replied Gyda, spreading a hand over her dress. 

 

Leon laughed again, “Well, Versailles is a good place for that. Are you staying for the wedding?”

 

“Yes,” replied Eli, picking through his trunk of things. “We have to give our well wishes to the happy couple, no?” He smirked a little to himself.

 

“Well, the  _ dauphine _ should arrive any day now,” said Leon, sitting down in an ornate chair below the ceiling of painted angels.

 

“I think I shall become fast friends with her,” said Gyda, sitting opposite him. “It would do us well to have someone on the inside to tell all of their secrets to.” She looked positively devious as she said this.

 

“Yes, keep her busy with inane talks of fashion and  _ boys _ ,” sneered Eli. 

 

He and Gyda did not get along at all, and it was getting worse as the years waned on. They were always trying to strain on each other's nerves, vindictive and jealous, although Athelstan knew not why.

 

Gyda rolled her eyes but said nothing, not taking the bait this time.

 

Instead, she turned to Athelstan, “I wish to have a stroll about those beautiful gardens I’ve heard of. Will you join me?”

 

Athelstan agreed easily, holding out his arm to her and leading her out the doors of their chambers. He didn't notice the sly look she shot Eli as they walked out.

 

They walked arm in arm through the large, sprawling palace, and out into the largest and most ornate garden they had ever seen.

 

“Isn't it wonderful?” Gyda asked Athelstan as they strolled leisurely through the winding trimmed hedges.

 

“Not nearly as wonderful as you,” replied Athelstan and Gyda giggled in response.

 

Suddenly, her face brightened.

 

“Chase me, Athelstan,” she demanded, already lifting her voluminous skirts.

 

“What of the others?” He asked, referring to the servants and other visiting diplomats milling about in the spacious garden.

 

“We’ll run at a normal,  _ boring _ , human pace,” she replied, and sprinted off, zigzagging through the bushes.

 

Athelstan watched her go for a moment before smiling to himself and running after her. He chased her all throughout the gardens, much to the dismay of the others watching.

 

“ _ Disgraceful _ ,” they heard an old woman mutter to her companion. “What a wild, ungainly thing running about these hedges as if she were a boy.”

 

Gyda stopped when she heard that and whipped her head around to glare at the old woman. The old woman looked thoroughly shocked, as it seemed she had been caught. Without a word, Gyda left their game and walked gracefully towards the old woman, Athelstan watching her go with an amused smile on his face. His Gyda had such a temper.

 

He heard her threaten the old woman in a low voice, pulling her to privacy near the back entrance and twisting her arm, saying, “ _ Never speak ill of me or my brother again, or I will rip off your arm and slap you with it. Do you understand?” _ The old woman nodded dumbly, completely entranced.

 

Just as quick as her temper flared, it was gone, replaced with a sunny smile, “Good.” She released the woman’s arm and said, “Please, enjoy the rest of your day.”

 

“You as well,” smiled the old woman, already forgetting their encounter.

 

Athelstan came up behind Gyda once the old woman was gone, “Was that really necessary?”

 

Gyda laughed, it sounded like little bells, “Please, Athelstan. We both know that if I hadn't have said something to that woman, you would have.”

 

Athelstan said nothing, for she was right.

 

The next few days spent waiting in the palace for the  _ dauphine _ to arrive went by quickly. Athelstan and the others occupied themselves by playing card games, dancing in the parlor with some of the other foreign dignitaries, and of course,  _ feeding.  _ They did well to not kill anybody of great importance, usually just some servants; people nobody would miss.

 

Finally, the day arrived. The  _ dauphine  _ would be riding from Compiègne to Versailles. The courtiers all gathered around the front steps of the palace, waiting with baited breath for her to arrive.

 

She arrived in a gilded carriage, all eyes on her as she stepped out. 

 

Gyda whispered to Athelstan, “So she  _ is  _ beautiful.”

 

They watched as the graceful Marie Antoinette, as she was called, waltzed through the throngs of people and up through the palace doors. She seemed surprised by the warmth she saw in Gyda’s smile as she passed, for everyone else regarded her with cold indifference.

 

They attended her wedding to Louis XVI of France, sitting as far away as possible from the crucifixes affixed about the room. They spectated her dance with her husband, dancing themselves once she and Louis XVI were sent off to their marriage bed.

 

“I can't help but feel bad for her, Athelstan,” said Gyda one night after spending the day with the  _ dauphine _ . She had compelled her way into her inner circle and quickly became friends with the princess.

 

“Why?” asked Eli, sucking a servant dry from his chair in their common room.

 

“She’s just a child,” explained Gyda, exasperated. “Thrown into a world she knows little about and expected to be perfect. I know a thing or two about that.”

 

Athelstan felt a twinge of guilt pierce his gut as Leon counted out the cards for their card game, but quickly pushed it down. It was too late to dwell on that.

 

“You’re still a child,” replied Eli, throwing the dead body to the floor. “You whine whenever you don't get your way, like a petulant toddler.”

 

Gyda’s eyes flashed dangerously red and black, and she curled her hands into fists, “You’re one to talk. If I am a toddler, then you are a baby, crying for attention.”

 

Athelstan and Leon hid their smirks behind their cards, lest Eli see and blow up, just like a child. 

 

Eli said nothing, knocking back a crystal glass of champagne with a sour look on his face. Athelstan and Leon played a game of cards while Gyda went and amused herself with a book by an open window.

 

Later that night, after bidding goodnight to Leon who had his own chambers to reside in, Athelstan was getting ready to settle into his spacious bed with a book until Eli finally showed up. 

 

He heard a knock on the door, and assumed it was Eli, saying, “Come in.”

 

But instead of Eli, it was Gyda, looking positively radiant, even in just her nightgown. Her hair had been taken down from its  _ pouf  _ and now fell in curls down her back. It shone like sunlight even in the darkened room.

 

“Gyda,” said Athelstan, surprised. He closed his book and set it down on the bed, “Is something wrong?”

 

Gyda looked at her feet and wrung her hands before saying, “N-nothing's wrong. It's just—can I sleep in here with you?”

 

Athelstan sighed. Sometimes Gyda would get like this and wish to sleep in Athelstan’s bed. He didn't mind but he knew Eli would.

 

“Gyda…” began Athelstan softly, “you know Eli…” he trailed off, not wanting to say more.

 

“Oh, Eli won't mind,” replied Gyda, “I saw him passed out in his cups as I made my way down here.”

 

Athelstan’s face twitched. He could see Eli in his mind’s eye, face down on the table with about a hundred glasses of champagne surrounding him. Eli got blackout drunk a lot in the past 300 years, ever since their debacle in Rome. It was obvious he was trying, and failing, to forget what had happened.

 

Athelstan patted the space next to him, “Well in that case…”

 

A delighted smile lit up Gyda’s face and she flashed onto the bed, falling upon it with a little laugh. Immediately, she curled up into Athelstan’s side, placing one hand on his chest and another into his curls, sighing happily.

 

Athelstan smiled and stroked her hair, admiring the soft strands. They laid in silence for a few moments, to the point that Athelstan thought Gyda had dozed off, until she spoke.

 

“Do you love me, Athelstan?” She asked quietly.

 

Athelstan looked at her, shocked, “Of course I do! Whatever gave you the impression that I didn't?”

 

“Nothing,” she sighed. She burrowed her body further into his side. Athelstan could feel her womanly curves pressed up against him and inwardly gulped. She  _ had  _ grown into a beautiful young lady, temper or not.

 

She spoke again after a few moments, very quietly, as if afraid someone might overhear, “Athelstan?”

 

“Yes, my love?”

 

“I think Eli is hiding something. Something about what happened that night, the night you accidentally raised me.”

 

Athelstan looked at her. Where was all this coming from? 

 

“Eli is always hiding something,” he replied diplomatically, “but what makes you say this?”

 

“I found him, when he was passed out drunk, looking over the scroll and I couldn't help myself Athelstan! I took a peek and something just didn't add up…”

 

Athelstan sat up, “What do you mean?”

 

“Some of the words were wrong, definitely not the same words you recounted to me when asked you what the spell was, long ago…”

 

Athelstan wracked his brain, trying to understand what it meant. Could Eli have possibly switched the words on him? He wouldn't put it past him. He felt anger bubble up inside him, hot and surging. 

 

“I'm going to talk to Leon tomorrow,” said Gyda, “and ask him what those words mean. I'm sure he can speak the language.”

 

Athelstan nodded, trying to push down his anger.

 

“Will you tell me what you find?” He asked.

 

“Of course.”

* * *

 

Athelstan heard what Gyda found that next night, as he was writing in his journal. She came blazing into his room, furious. Her eyes were black and red with rage.

 

“I assume you found out what the words meant?” Athelstan asked, putting down his quill and fearing the worst.

 

“He told you that the words meant ‘bring Ragnar Lothbrok back to me’, correct?” Gyda asked, pacing in her anger.

 

“Yes…” said Athelstan slowly.

 

“Well, they didn't mean that at all! Leon told me the words he told you to use were ‘Bring Ragnar Lothbrok’s dead child back to me’. He must have made it up, without knowing I existed! He lied to you Athelstan, played you for a fool!”

 

Athelstan cursed, that same red-hot rage flaring up in him again.

 

“Where. Is. He?” He seethed.

 

Gyda opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment they heard the sitting room doors open and Eli came waltzing in, whistling a jolly tune.

 

Athelstan was out of his seat by his desk and in the sitting room in a flash, grabbing Eli by the collar and slamming him up against the decorated wall.

 

He bared his fangs in anger, Eli looking positively confused.

 

“Why, Athelstan! Whatever is the matter?”

 

“You! You are the matter! You have been nothing but a thorn in my side since the day we met, taking everything away from me! Well, I have had enough.”

 

Eli looked at him, a spark of indignation in his eyes, “What are you going to do?  _ Kill me _ ?”

 

“I'd like to see that,” spat Gyda from behind them.

 

“No,” Athelstan shook his head, “not kill you. We’re leaving.”

 

“We are?” Gyda was shocked.

 

Eli laughed, although his face betrayed a bit of nervousness in the set of his brows, “You can't  _ leave  _ me! Remember our deal?”

 

Athelstan tightened his hold on Eli’s collar, “Our  _ deal _ is null and void. My family is all dead, there is no one you could hurt anymore.”

 

“Except for one,” mocked Eli, glancing at Gyda, who took a step back.

 

Athelstan hissed and bared his fangs, snapping them in Eli’s face, “You will  _ not  _ harm Gyda! You know I would never forgive you if you did.”

 

Eli’s face turned panicked. Athelstan had him now.

 

“Very well,” Eli said, schooling his face neutral after a moment. “Very well. You may go.”

 

Athelstan felt relief flood his body and he let Eli go. That was a mistake. Eli flashed over to one of the chairs and broke off one of the wooden legs, it sharp to a point. He grabbed Athelstan and without pausing, shoved it, right through his heart.

 

_ “Something to remember me by _ ,” he hissed in his ear, vindictive. Gyda screamed and ran to him, just as Eli flashed out the door, gone.

 

The last thing Athelstan recalled before passing out, was the feeling of Gyda yanking the stake from his chest and her tears staining his shirt, already bloody from his wound.

* * *

Athelstan woke in his bed with the early light of dawn peeking through the curtains of his room. The first thing that greeted him was Gyda, sitting at his bedside and holding his hand. When he first gained consciousness, he swore he could hear her praying, but to whom he did not know.

 

Beside her, looking grave, was Leon. They both smiled with relief when they saw Athelstan open his eyes.

 

“Oh, Athelstan!” Gyda cried, throwing her arms around him.

 

“Wher-where’s—” he tried to ask.

 

“Gone,” whispered Gyda excitedly. “He's gone. For good, I think.”

 

“Still,” said Leon, “it would behoove you two to leave as soon as possible, in case he returns.”

 

Athelstan nodded dumbly, disbelieving that this was actually happening. After over 900 years, he was  _ finally  _ free of Eli. He felt giddy almost, with this newfound freedom.

 

“Come, Athelstan,” said Gyda, gently helping him from his bed. His chest wasn't hurting him anymore, but still, it felt nice to be treated gently. “Let's gather our things. I must go say goodbye to the princess, she'd never forgive me if I left without a word.”

 

Leon helped Athelstan gather their things as Gyda waltzed through the palace to say her goodbyes. She had become quite fond of the princess and found a friend in her, both of them delighting themselves daily with each other. Gyda hated to watch her lower lip tremble as she gave her news, but she did not budge when the princess begged her to stay. 

 

She came back just in time as Athelstan was directing the servants to load up their things in their carriage.

 

“How did it go?” Athelstan asked as he handed off a trunk to one of the liveried footmen.

 

“She's insisting to see us off,” Gyda said, adjusting her wide watered blue skirt.

 

“Well, we are leaving now, so if she must, she must come now.”

 

“She will.”

 

They walked out of the palace, where they were greeted by Leon and the princess, with her gaggle of courtiers. She seemed to be holding back tears.

 

She grasped Gyda’s hands tightly in hers, “You must promise me, Gyda, that you will write to me as often as you can.”

 

“I promise,” said Gyda.

 

To the shock of the others, Marie Antoinette brought Gyda in for a hug, who soothed a hand down her back.

 

“ _ Auf Wiedersehen,  _ Gyda,” the princess whispered, low enough only Gyda and Athelstan heard.

 

“Goodbye, princess,” Gyda smiled sadly and then she reluctantly let go.

 

Leon helped Gyda and Athelstan into the carriage, whispering to them, “ _ Bonne chance  _ on your new journey. We will see each other again, one day.”

 

Gyda nodded and Athelstan shook his hand, reminiscent of their last goodbye, and then the driver struck the horses and they were off. Gyda leaned out the window and waved until the people gathered on the steps of the palace were but specks in the distance.

 

“Well, Athelstan,” said Gyda, smiling as she took his arm. “This is it. Our freedom, at last.”

 

Athelstan smiled at her and looked out the window at the passing trees. They blurred around them in various shades of green.

 

_ Yes.  _

 

_ Freedom _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The evil has been defeated!
> 
> For now...


	19. NINETEEN

_'Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.'_

_\- Kahlil Gibran_

* * *

__

They stole out of France as if the Devil were on their heels, and if Athelstan was being honest with himself, he probably was. They rode to Austria, Gyda wanted to visit the homeland of her dear friend.

They stayed in Vienna for a time, delighting themselves in their newfound freedom. Athelstan hired many tutors for himself and Gyda, teaching them many things from the piano forte to the painting of the times. Gyda particularly excelled in her lessons, entertaining their many guests before they killed them.

They visited Schönnbrunn and met the Holy Roman Empress Maria Theresa, who was surprised at the nice things Gyda had to say about her daughter. She was of the opinion that her daughter needed to perform her rightful duties as a wife and bed her husband. Gyda said nothing, trying to keep her temper in check. She evaded the questions of her own marital status, stating she was waiting for an arrangement. The Empress gave her blessing for whatever husband Gyda was given, then they bid her farewell.

“Did you hear?” Gyda had asked Athelstan one night as they sat in the parlor of their little retreat in Munich.

“Hear what?” Athelstan asked as he plucked out a tune on their piano.

“There's a revolution happening, in France. Marie’s letters have stopped arriving almost entirely. I do hope she's alright,” Gyda said, sipping from a crystal glass filled with the blood of one of their servants.

“I'm sure she will be fine,” Athelstan reassured. “If it gets too bad, they will surely evacuate the royal family.”

“I suppose you are right,” sighed Gyda, mixing a bit of champagne into her blood and downing it. “Now show me that tune, I have not heard it before!” 

He held out a hand and she giggled, taking it and sitting down beside him on the wooden bench.

Turns out, things would not be alright for Marie Antoinette and her family. Gyda received word of her execution from Leon, and sat crying in Athelstan’s arms for hours, while he tried to comfort her.

Gyda spent a few days in mourning, having them travel back to Austria where she planted a bush of pink roses in the garden of Schönnbrunn, in honor of her dead friend.

“She was kind, Athelstan,” Gyda said as they stared at her flowers. “She didn't deserve what she got.”

“Most of us do not, my love,” said Athelstan, and he took her hand and lead her away.

They eventually made their way back to England by the 1840s, settling in London in a beautiful townhouse that Athelstan bought in his own name for himself and Gyda. 

They were enjoying their time together, becoming closer than ever, but still maintaining their deadly appetite and temper. 

They went hunting through the streets of London, taking people from the gutter and the bars, even the aristocracy. They enjoyed feasting on the haughty and the rude, feeling apathetic towards those kinds of people. 

Athelstan and Gyda charmed the noblemen and women of England with their extensive knowledge of the world. Gyda took to entertaining large numbers of guests with her musical compositions and singing, her voice sounding like honey.

“Why, my dear,” spoke a noblewoman sitting in their home, once Gyda had finished her piece, “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Gyda smiled shyly, “Thank you, Lady Glover.”

“And how is your relationship with your husband?” Lady Glover asked, gesturing to Athelstan, who was engaged in conversation with some of the men.

Gyda made as if she'd flush, “Oh, he's not my husband!”

“Your lover, then?” giggled a young lady beside Lady Glover.

“Oh no, he's—he’s my family,” sighed Gyda, looking at Athelstan longingly.

Lady Glover and the young lady exchanged a look. They saw the way Gyda stared at Athelstan and thought she was lying, but they didn't say anything, until they were out of the house. Unfortunately for them, Gyda overheard.

“Can you believe that Gyda?” gossiped one of the ladies, “I highly doubt that he's just ‘her family’. The way she looks at him! Poor thing, he’ll never feel the same way. Something  _ must  _ be wrong with her if she's twenty-two and not married!” The other ladies laughed as they pulled away.

Gyda watched them go out the window, silently vowing her revenge on those women. Athelstan came up behind her and snuck his hands around her waist. Gyda prayed to whoever was listening that Athelstan hadn't overheard what they had said. She couldn't face the embarrassment if he did.

“You enjoy the evening, little dove?” He asked, kissing her golden head.

“Yes, I did,” she replied, tentatively placing her hand over his. “Except some of those ladies were…”

“Rude?” Athelstan teased.

“Oh, yes.  _ Very _ ,” Gyda said darkly.

“Do you wish to kill them?” Athelstan asked lightly.

Gyda looked up at him, “ _ Yes _ .”

They tracked down the women in their respective homes, Athelstan letting Gyda exact her vengeance on them on her own. She came to them in their beds, frightening them as if she were a ghost. She smiled her warm smile, baring her white teeth in a mock attempt of reassurance. 

She killed them quickly, after letting them soil their nightgowns. She delighted in hearing their whimpers of pain, feeling vindicated in her hatred.

Afterwards, they went back home and Athelstan entertained Gyda with the piano. She danced around the parlor, reminiscent of the dances of the old days. They laughed and they teased, completely comfortable with one another.

They were happy.

It didn't last.

* * *

One day, a rare sunny day in London, Gyda insisted that she and Athelstan take a stroll about the city, just to take in the sights and smells. Athelstan agreed easily and they walked, arm in arm, through the streets of London.

Stares followed them wherever they went, completely enchanted by this beautiful couple. Gyda was stunning in a floral printed gown that showed off her shoulders. Her beautiful golden hair was on top of her head in the style of the times, ringlets framing her face. 

Athelstan sported a black waistcoat and coal gray pants, with a dark blue vest. He had a high collar and a black top hat adorned his head, over top of his dark curls. 

They were used to the stares they got but Gyda was drawn to one stare in particular as they crossed into the market. She looked up, feeling the piercing gaze upon her, and saw a young man, with wonderful hazel eyes staring at her, from against a brick wall.

He was a proper English gentleman, judging by the state of his dress and countenance, and he seemed to be utterly enthralled with Gyda. Gyda couldn't help herself and smiled at the man coyly. The young man took this as an invitation and pushed off the brick wall, coming to walk beside her and Athelstan.

“Forgive me,” he said, in a smooth voice, “I couldn't help but stare at you, lovely lady, for you have the most beautiful eyes.”

Gyda giggled a little. She felt Athelstan tighten his hold on her arm, but said nothing.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she curtsied slightly before Athelstan pulled her along the road.

The young man picked up his pace, trying to keep in time with them, “My name is Harold, Harry to my friends, and I am a painter. If I may be so bold, I would ask for the chance to paint your lovely portrait.”

Gyda exchanged a look with Athelstan, who raised his brows in response. He wasn't going to tell her no, but he didn't exactly approve of this either.

Harold noticed the look they shared and quickly tacked on, “If it's reasonable to your husband, of course.”

Gyda giggled again, “Oh, he's not my husband. He's my—he's my  _ brother _ .” Gyda felt a little disappointed as she said this but she tried not to let it show.

“Well, then,” smiled Harold brilliantly, “I would be most happy if you accepted my offer.”

Gyda looked to Athelstan again and he nodded once, barely noticeable. 

Gyda turned back to him and held out a gloved hand, “Alright, Harold. I shall take you up on your offer.”

Harold’s smile became even wider and he took her hand and shook it firmly, quite pleased with himself.

Harold arrived at their townhouse the next morning, carting with him his paint supplies and a large wooden easel. Athelstan helped him set up in the parlor, after asking Harold if he could paint a miniature portrait of Gyda for Athelstan to carry with him on his person. Harold agreed easily enough, though Gyda couldn't help but tease him.

“Why do you need a miniature of me, Athelstan?” She giggled, feeling light on love. “Are you planning on being away from me?”

“Of course not, my love,” he smiled, taking her hand and leading her to sit in the blood red armchair. “I just wish to carry you in my heart, as always.”

Gyda stared at him, enraptured. Harold cleared his throat after a moment, breaking the spell Athelstan had on Gyda. He had his supplies, his paints picked out and squeezed out on his tableau.

“Are you ready to begin, lovely lady?” asked Harold, holding his paints aloft.

“Yes,” said Gyda, situating herself in the chair, folding her hands over her lap in her light blue dress.

Athelstan left them to their own devices, after giving Harold a searching look. He went to his study and picked through his books and journals, all the while listening as Gyda and Harold made light conversation.

“So, where are you and your brother from, Gyda?” Harold was asking.

“Up North,” replied Gyda, teasingly.

“Were your parents fans of 9th century Vikings and Anglo-Saxon England?” Harold asked.

Athelstan heard Gyda still, and ask, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, your names, of course,” laughed Harold and Athelstan could feel Gyda sigh softly in relief.

“Yes, yes they were,” Gyda laughed lightly. “They used to tell us stories of the great Norman invasion, almost as if they'd been there themselves.”

Athelstan smiled a little to himself at Gyda’s teasing and shook his head, scratching away in his journal.

“Do you know anything about the Vikings?” asked Harold as he applied paints to canvas.

“Oh, yes,” smirked Gyda. “They told me all about them.”

“Would you care to share? I've always been curious about them.”

Gyda deliberated a moment, unsure of whether or not to proceed. 

“Should I?” She asked Athelstan under her breath, low enough and fast enough, only he could hear.

“Sure,” Athelstan said easily. “Just don't divulge too much, lest he catches on to something.”

Gyda nodded slightly, and began to tell Harold about them. She told him about their beliefs, their government systems, the sagas of Ragnar Lothbrok. Athelstan remembered with perfect clarity the day they found that book that recounted her father’s epic adventures. They had gazed at it for hours, reading it over and over again. They had smuggled it out of the library they found it in, and carried it with them wherever they went. Currently, it sat on the cluttered bookshelf in Athelstan's study. Athelstan looked up from his scratching and searched it out with his eyes, finding the binding easily.

Gyda and Harold continued to talk for hours, becoming accustomed to one another quickly. Athelstan smirked to himself at Harold’s not-so-subtle attempts at flirting, although he felt a painful tug at his heart when Gyda began to respond in kind.

Night eventually began to fall, and Athelstan decided that it was enough for one day, and got up from his desk, waltzing back into the parlor where Gyda and Harold were giggling over something.

“Thank you, Harold,” said Athelstan, interrupting them. “For your paintings, but I believe that's enough for today. Gyda needs to get her beauty rest, after all.” He winked at her and she stuck her tongue out at him behind Harold’s back as he began to pack up his things.

“Oh, I doubt the lovely Gyda needs beauty rest,” laughed Harold. “But I shall leave all the same. Same time tomorrow?”

Athelstan nodded and they bid Harold a goodnight.

“So,” prompted Gyda, standing up from her seat in the armchair, “what do you think?”

“About Harold or the paintings?”

“ _ Harry _ .”

“Harry, then,” said Athelstan. He thought for a moment, “He's alright I suppose. A little over zealous perhaps…”

Gyda’s eyes twinkled, “Are you jealous?”

“Don't be silly,” laughed Athelstan. “He's no match for me.”

“No,” said Gyda, gazing up at him with her bright blue eyes, “He isn't.”

* * *

Harold came the next day and the next, entertaining Gyda throughout all the hours of the day while he painted her portrait. They talked of many things, of the Vikings and past history, Gyda impressing him with her knowledge of the world.

“Why, it’s as if you'd been to all these places yourself!” Harold exclaimed as colored in her hair.

“No, I just read,” responded Gyda.

“Well, I must borrow your books if that's the case, I'm sure they are a fascinating read.”

“Maybe one day…”

The next day, Harold could only stay for a few hours, for Athelstan had tickets for him and Gyda to go to the theatre on Oxford Street. A man named Charles Kean was beginning a Shakespeare revival, and Gyda wanted to see the performance of Romeo and Juliet.

They bid Harold farewell, and walked to Oxford street, both of them dressed to the nines. They had seats in a private box, Gyda bought herself a pair of lady binoculars for the occasion, although she didn't really need them. 

“Isn't it lovely, Athelstan?” Gyda asked as they sat in their seats and watched as Romeo proclaimed his love for Juliet below her balcony.

“‘I am too bold, ‘tis not to me she speaks,’” whispered Athelstan to Gyda, quoting Romeo’s words verbatim, “‘Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return.’”

Gyda gazed at him, her eyes full of passion. Softly, she whispered, “I love you, Athelstan.” She had said it many times over the centuries, but in this moment, it felt like she was baring her soul. She loved him, she did.

“And I you, little dove,” Athelstan leaned over and kissed her head. She leaned into the touch, it burning through her skin.

“ _ Distasteful, _ ” Gyda heard someone mutter in the box beside them. “Showing such open affection. I heard they were siblings, what kind of siblings act like  _ that _ ?”

Gyda and Athelstan both inclined their heads to the voice, cataloging the sound of it in their minds. Oh, how they hated rude people. 

They followed the sound of the woman’s voice during the intermission, she was complaining of the state of Juliet’s dress to her morose looking husband. He looked terribly bored with her and they couldn't blame him. He'd be rid of her soon enough.

The woman eventually left her husband to go to the ladies’ room, Athelstan and Gyda following her silently. They headed her off, blocking her way to the bathroom. They were in a darkened corridor, no one else  was around but the three of them.

Her plain face stared in shock as Gyda blocked her, muttering, “Pardon me, miss.”

“No,” said Gyda, smiling, falsely sweet, “pardon  _ me _ .” She reached out a hand and snatched up the woman’s wrist, her letting out a cry of pain before Athelstan came up behind her and muffled her screams with his hand.

“You know it is rude to talk about people behind their backs,” tutted Gyda. “I thought English ladies were supposed to be polite, right  _ brother _ ?”

“Oh, they are,” smirked Athelstan. “But some do like their gossip, dear  _ sister _ .”

“They need to be taught a lesson,” said Gyda. “To be a  _ proper  _ English lady, one must not gossip, especially about people they don't even know. Do you agree?”

The woman nodded tearfully in Athelstan’s grasp.

“Good,” smiled Gyda. “Now,  _ don't scream _ .” Then her eyes swam red and black and she bared her fangs, burying them into the woman’s neck.

Athelstan held the struggling woman in place while Gyda sucked her dry, letting her fall dead to the floor.

“Ah,” said Gyda, taking the handkerchief Athelstan offered her, “that's better.” She wiped her mouth of the blood before handing it back to him and taking his arm.

“You are quite the little monster,” Athelstan teased as they walked back to their box.

“And you aren't?” replied Gyda, smug.

* * *

Harold came back the next day and changed everything between Athelstan and Gyda with just a few words.

It started out nice enough, Gyda and Harold exchanging pleasantries while Athelstan read a book in his study. He paused in his readings, however, when Harold asked Gyda a question.

“M’lady, if I may be so bold,” began Harold, as he added the details of her dress, “I would like to take you out, to the theatre.”

Gyda giggled, “I went to the theatre last night, Harry, or do you not remember that?”

“Oh, I do,” said Harold. “But I wish to take you to an artist’s theatre. Have you ever been to one of those?”

Gyda shook her head.

“Well, in that case, we have to go!”

“Go where?” Athelstan appeared in the doorway of the parlor, looking nonchalant.

Harold startled, “Athelstan! My God, you move like a specter!”

Athelstan chuckled and Gyda glanced at him, nervous at his intentions.

“Go where?” Athelstan repeated, patient.

“The artist’s theatre,” supplied Gyda, “Have you ever been, brother?”

Athelstan shook his head.

“Well, then we must all go!” Gyda said, delighted.

Harold laughed nervously, “Actually, m’lady, I only have tickets for two. For you and I.”

Gyda’s eyes widened in shock, “ _ Oh _ .” 

Athelstan smirked a little; he saw this coming a mile away. 

“Please,” said Harold, addressing Athelstan, “please allow me to take Gyda to the artist’s theatre. I promise to take good care of her. No harm will come to her while she's with me.”

Athelstan’s smirk grew, “Oh, I have no doubt of that, young Harry. And it's entirely up to Gyda whether or not she goes with you.”

Gyda gazed up at him, her expression unreadable, “You wish for me to go?”

“Only if you wish it,” replied Athelstan, smiling at her reassuringly.

Gyda stared at him for a long moment, before smiling and saying to Harold, “Of course I’ll go with you Harry, I'm sure we’ll have a marvelous time.”

Harold left them shortly after that to allow Gyda to get ready. Athelstan himself helped her pick something out, something especially beautiful.

“How about this?” Gyda held up a blood red dress, that accentuated her assets beautifully.

Athelstan cleared his throat, awkward, “I thought we were the only ones who devoured others.”

Gyda smiled deviously, “Perhaps I wish for him to devour me. I've never taken a lover in my almost a thousand years of life, mayhaps it's time I did.”

“Oh, Gyda, banish the thought,” Athelstan pleaded. “I could not bear the thought of you being with another like that.”

Gyda sighed, for once annoyed with him, “And what shall I do, then, hm? Be forever alone? While you get my Father? I'm tired of waiting, Athelstan.”

“Waiting for what?”

Gyda looked away, “Nothing. Forget it. Leave me, so I can get dressed.”

Athelstan hesitated but did as she said.

Harold turned up at half past six, looking dashing in a new waistcoat. He seemed absolutely enthralled as Gyda glided down the steps in her red dress, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Harold held out his arm, “If we may, m’lady?”

Gyda giggled, not even looking at Athelstan as she took his arm, “We may.”

“Bring her back before one,” Athelstan called at their retreating backs, but they made no indication that they heard him.

Athelstan waited up all night, becoming increasingly worried when the clock struck one and they still had not returned. He almost went out and searched for them, when he heard the door bang open. He bolted upright, fearing something wrong, when he heard Gyda’s giggles and the sounds of lips meeting in a kiss.

He sighed; he could not stop her from her wishes, although he most certainly wanted to. He listened as Gyda lead Harold up to her room, them kissing and laughing all the while.

“Do you wish to  _ bed  _ me, Harry?” Gyda giggled as he pushed her down onto her bed.

“Oh, I wish to do more than that,” Harold growled.

Athelstan listened, not pausing to think how wrong it was, as Harold stripped Gyda of her gown and she began to moan as he kissed her neck.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Harold was hiding something. He reached into his waistcoat pocket whilst Gyda was distracted, and pulled out a long, wooden stake. Without pausing in his kisses, he aimed the stake over her heart and plunged it in. 

Gyda’s eyes flew open and she stared, shocked into the eyes of the man she thought had fallen for her.

Athelstan let out an enraged roar, having heard everything. He flew up the stairs and ripped open the door, gazing at Harold full of hate.

“You’re too late,” Harold said, brandishing another stake. “And now, it’s your time, you  _ abomination _ !”

Athelstan flashed to Harold, grabbing him by the throat and knocking the stake from his hand.

“No,” he growled, baring his fangs, “Now it’s  _ your  _ time.”

* * *

Gyda gasped awake a few hours later, her hand immediately flying to her chest, where her stake wound had already healed. She was dressed again, Athelstan taking care to make sure she was proper.

Athelstan sat in the chair across from her bed, staring at the dead body of Harold. She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears.

“Athelstan,” she cried. “I didn't know. I—I didn't know!”

Athelstan said nothing for a moment, before hissing, “How could you allow this to happen Gyda? Eli was right: never trust the humans.”

Gyda stared at him, in shock, “ _ Eli _ was right?! Do you forget, you  _ were  _ human, once!”

Athelstan flew up from the chair, enraged, “Yes, almost a thousand years ago! I have been  _ strigi _ far longer than I have  _ ever  _ been human, as have you! I knew we shouldn't have trusted this man, how could you have been so stupid, Gyda?!”

Gyda flew from the bed, her own temper flaring, “Because I was trying to make you jealous, you idiotic man!”

Athelstan drew back, shocked. No words came out.

“Are you really so blind, Athelstan?” Gyda cried. “I  _ love  _ you, love you more than anyone alive has ever loved you, and yet you still look at me as if I'm that child from the farm, a sweet little girl whom you have to protect!”

“But you are still that little girl!” Athelstan yelled.

Gyda drew back, lost for words.

“ _ This _ ,” he said, gesturing to her young adult form, “is just a ruse! Underneath it all, you’re still a little girl. You don't love me, you  _ can't.”  _ He was almost pleading as he said this, he couldn't bear the thought of Gyda loving him that way, when he knew he could never return her feelings.

“But I do!” Gyda cried. She took a step forward to Athelstan and placed her hands on his chest, “ _ I do _ ! You are my life, Athelstan. My very reason for being! You are the first thing I saw in this new life and I have loved you ever since.”

Athelstan shook his head, trying to get out of her grasp, but Gyda held him firm.

“ _ Stop _ ,” he whispered, not wanting to hear more.

“No,” Gyda insisted. “I love you, Athelstan.  _ Please,  _ let me show you.” She placed her hands on his face and brought him into a chaste kiss, tasting his lips for the first, and perhaps the only, time.

Gyda felt as if her whole body was afire as they shared their brief kiss, but as quickly as it started, it was over, Athelstan pushing her away.

“Gyda,” he whispered brokenly, “I'm sorry. I can't—I love Ragnar.”

Gyda shut her eyes, grief overcoming her features. Blood tears fell down her face silently. Athelstan tried to comfort her but she brushed him off, wiping away her tears.

After a moment, she looked up at him, her bright blue eyes no longer full of that mischievous spark that he loved.

“I wish to be left alone,” she said coldly. “Please, leave me be.”

“Gyda…” Athelstan tried but she held up a hand, stopping him.

“Please,” she pleaded, for once looking her age in the ocean blue of her eyes.

Athelstan nodded once and knelt down to carry the dead body of Harold out the door. Before he left, he turned to Gyda once more and said, brokenly, “ _ I'm sorry _ .”

Gyda said nothing, and closed the door in his face. 

Athelstan took Harold’s body out to the outskirts of London, smuggling his dead body into a tomb in one of the cemeteries. He didn't arrive back at the townhouse until it was well into the day. The house was quiet, he assumed Gyda was resting after her eventful night.

He went into the garden, picking a bouquet of wildflowers for her. He wanted to make it up to her, he so hated to harm her the way he did that night. He waited a few hours, until he was sure she would stir, but he heard nothing. 

Worried, he went up to her room, carrying the wildflowers in one hand. He knocked on the door politely, but got no answer. Now incredibly worried, he bust open the door.

She wasn't there.

Her room had been stripped bare, all of her belongings gone. 

Athelstan cried out, “Gyda! Gyda?!”

No answer.

He began to panic until he spied something on the bed. It was a folded up piece of parchment. With trembling fingers, Athelstan picked it up and unfolded it. Something fell out of it. 

It was her miniature that she had Harold paint. There she was, her beautiful smile staring back at him. He gazed at it a moment, before turning to the parchment.

It was a letter.

A  _ goodbye _ .

_ “Dearest Athelstan _ ,” it read, “ _ By the time you read this, I will already be gone. Do not come looking for me, for I shall be far away. I am sorry for leaving you, but I fear you left me no choice. I could no longer stand by your side while you did not return my feelings for you. Fear not, my dear Athelstan, I bear you no ill will. In just a few years time, your thousand years of waiting will be up and you can finally be reunited with my Father, Ragnar. I pray you find happiness together and perhaps one day, we can meet again, and be a family once more. But that time isn't now. I left enclosed the miniature Harold painted for you, so you can always remember me the way I want to be remembered. I love you, Athelstan, and I will  _ _ always _ _ love you. Never forget that.” _

Athelstan’s eyes blurred as he read, and finally a few drops fell, staining the parchment with the blood.

He stared at the letter in shock, until the dam broke, and he fell to the floor, feeling as though his heart had been ripped out from his chest.

“NOOOOOO!” He screamed brokenly, sobbing in heaves. The tears streamed down his face in rivulets, completely blurring his vision.

She was gone. His beloved Gyda was gone. He had failed her. He had failed himself. But most of all, he had failed Ragnar.

How could he possibly face him now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry :(
> 
> Full disclosure, I've written the last few chapters in advance so the updates will be coming quicker:)
> 
> This story is nearing it's close, I hope y'all are ready ;)


	20. TWENTY

_'And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.'_

_\- Freidrich Nietzche_

* * *

Athelstan was lost. 

 

Utterly lost.

 

Without Gyda, there was no one to tame him. No one to bring out his deeply buried good side. 

 

That side of him was gone now.

 

He didn't bring back Ragnar, when the time finally came. He found he could not bring himself to do it, not with the way he was now. How could Ragnar possibly love him, when he was this hateful creature, this  _ monster.  _

 

Besides, he needed the proper words to do the spell. The spell only Eli had access to. Eli, who had conveniently gone into hiding when the time came to bring Ragnar back.

 

Oh, how Athelstan  _ hated  _ him.

 

Athelstan breezed through world,  _ alone _ . Killing whenever it suited him, causing problems for humans and supernatural beings alike. In just a few short years, his name was one to be feared. Whispers of his cruelty spread throughout the supernatural community, although it was said he still had a modicum of honor,  _ if  _ one kept their word to him.

 

If they didn't,  _ well… _

 

One such instance happened in the 1920s, New York. Athelstan had finally made his way over to the New World, wanting to sample what it claimed it had to offer. 

 

He walked through the streets of New York, fresh off the boat with blood still lingering in his mouth from the fine feast he'd had. He had cut his hair, it was somewhat short but still curled around his ears. He wore a dashing three piece black suit with a matching tie, a glittering silver chain connecting to a pocket watch. 

 

His feet connected with the pavement with measured steps. He followed the sounds of the people as he walked the crowded street, wanting to find a space where he could have a nice drink.

 

Prohibition in America was in full swing but in New York, there were no shortages of speakeasies. He just followed the whisperings of the people until he came across a hidden door, down some dark alleyway. This speakeasy, he saw, as he watched a couple go up to the brick wall, was one for the supernaturals. He saw the man tap his long, talon-like fingernail three times against the brick. 

 

Quickly, the brick was pushed aside and a pair of yellow eyes peered back at them.

 

“ _ Password? _ ” croaked the voice.

 

The man uttered the password and the brick wall faded away, revealing the noise of the speakeasy inside. The couple was ushered in and the brick wall sealed once more. Athelstan walked slowly up to wall, still hiding in the shadows. He slowly tapped his finger against the wall, tap, tap, tap. 

 

The brick was pushed aside and the yellow eyes stared back at him. The yellow eyes widened when they saw him.

 

“ _ You _ !” The voice croaked, password forgotten.

 

Athelstan smirked, “ _ Me _ .”

 

“ _ We don't want you here, _ ” the voice spat.

 

“I've just come for a drink, I mean to do no harm,” Athelstan replied lightly.

 

The eyes shook, the head shaking no.

 

Athelstan’s eyes flashed, “I said:  _ let me in _ .”

 

The eyes went slack and the brick closed before the wall opened and Athelstan stepped through into the noise. As soon as he stepped through the door, the noise abruptly stopped. All eyes were on him as he took his careful, measured steps to the bar.

 

“A glass of brandy, barkeep,” Athelstan said as he sat down on one of the stools. The people sitting in the stools beside him immediately got up and moved around to the other side of the speakeasy, avoiding his eyes. 

 

The goblin manning the bar glared at him

but did as he said. He slammed the glass on the table and sloshed the amber brandy inside. Athelstan took it and raised it in mock salute before taking a sip. 

 

After seeing that Athelstan was not there to cause any trouble, the noise in the speakeasy gradually returned, although people still glared at him hatefully. No one came up to him,  _ until… _

 

“So, you’re  _ him _ , huh?” said a Brooklyn accented voice beside him. “The one that's got everyone in the supernatural community  _ aflutter _ , so to speak.”

 

Athelstan inclined his head to the man speaking beside him, “Yes, I suppose I am.”

 

“They say you've killed all manners of people, beings from the supernatural community, even your own kind.”

 

Athelstan raised his brows and looked at the man fully, taking in his appearance. He was much more shabbily dressed than Athelstan, several stains on his dress shirt and rips in his pants. His russet brown hair was in disarray and he had a scruffy beard. He reeked of alcohol. But there was something  _ else _ about him too…

 

“You’re a  _ strigi _ ?” Athelstan asked, slightly surprised.

 

“I believe the term now is  _ vampire _ ,” smirked the man, raising his glass.

 

“Ah, yes, thanks to that Bram Stoker fellow,” laughed Athelstan, taking another sip of his brandy.

 

“How do you suppose he knew about all that stuff anyway?” chortled the man. “I mean, granted, he did not get everything right but—”

 

“Who are you?” Athelstan interrupted him, bored of this droll conversation already. He had a feeling the man wanted something from him, he just didn't now what.

 

“Forgive me, my manners!” The man laughed, extending a hand. “I'm James, but you can call me Jimmy.”

 

Athelstan stared at the hand a moment, before reluctantly giving it a shake, not hiding his disgust as he wiped his hand on his handkerchief. Jimmy watched with amused eyes.

 

“So!  _ Jimmy _ , what do you want?” Athelstan asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

 

“More like, what do  _ you  _ want,” said Jimmy. 

 

Athelstan raised a brow.

 

“I know all about you,  _ Athelstan _ ,” said Jimmy.

 

“Oh? From who, I wonder.”

 

“ _ Eli _ .”

 

Athelstan stilled, his hand squeezing his glass so hard it began to crack. 

 

“You know Eli?” He asked lightly.

 

“Know him? He changed me!” Jimmy laughed. “I guess that makes us  _ brothers _ .”

 

Athelstan cracked his neck, “I have not spoken to Eli in over two hundred years. I was never his brother and I'll never be yours, so, I'll ask again,  _ what is it you want _ ?”

 

“I want you to kill Eli,” replied Jimmy.

 

Athelstan laughed, “In exchange for  _ what _ ?”

 

“I can tell you where Gyda is.”

 

Athelstan looked at him, sharp, “How do you know where Gyda is?”

 

“You don't think Eli doesn't keep tabs on you two, even after your departure? I can locate her, if you kill him for me.”

 

“And where is Eli?”

 

“Why here, in the city. I can show you where, as long as you give your word that you will kill him. I hear you are quite honorable, despite your nature.”

 

Athelstan stared at Jimmy a long moment, before saying, “Fine. I give you my word. And know this, if this is in any way trick, I  _ will  _ kill you, I can promise you that.”

 

Jimmy gulped and nodded jerkily. 

 

“Well,” said Athelstan, gulping the rest of his drink, “lead me to him.”

 

“Don't you need some supplies?”

 

“Oh, I have everything I need right here. So please, take me to him.”

 

Jimmy nodded and got up from the barstool, motioning for Athelstan to follow. He did, after putting down a crisp twenty for the bartender. 

 

He followed Jimmy out of the speakeasy and into the night. He lead him to the manufacturing district of New York, to a abandoned factory.

 

Athelstan knew immediately that this was a trap, but he let his face betray nothing as he let Jimmy lead him into the abandoned factory.

 

They entered and walked through the dank, dark hallways. They came upon the empty factory room and there was when Athelstan decided to end this little game.

 

“Tell me, Jimmy,” said Athelstan. “Do you take me for a fool?”

 

Jimmy turned around, facing him. He was a few paces away and looked liked he wanted to dart away at any moment.

 

“He said you were smart,” Jimmy chuckled nervously.

 

“Who said? Eli?  _ The First _ ?”

 

“No,” Jimmy shook his head. “ _ Him _ . The Liar, the Deceiver. The one they call  _ Satan _ .”

 

“Why did he send you?” Athelstan asked, clenching his fists.

 

“He wanted me to tell you he's watching, and he's quite happy with the man you've become.”

 

Athelstan flashed at Jimmy, the demon inside him roaring with anger, and he grabbed him by the neck.

 

“You can tell him, when you go to  _ Hell _ , that I want  _ nothing _ to do with him, understand? I promised you that I would kill you if you crossed me, and I'm a man of my word, but first, tell me,  _ was your comment about Gyda true _ ?”

 

Jimmy went slack in his grasp and rasped out, “Yes.”

 

“ _ Tell me _ .”

 

“She's out West, with some guy named Tobias who she turned. I swear, that's all I know!” 

 

Athelstan smiled, “I believe you.”

 

Then he stuck his hand through Jimmy’s chest and ripped out his heart, effectively killing him. He let the body and the heart fall to the floor, then pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his hands of the blood while he walked away, leaving the body to be found. 

 

He made his way out West, searching high and low for his precious Gyda. It took him three decades but he finally found her, at a dance hall in the mid 50s. She looked just as beautiful as the last day he saw her, as beautiful as her miniature he carried in his waistcoat pocket, near his heart.

 

She wore a blue taffeta dress, her hair perfectly pin curled, a string of pearls across her neck. She looked like a movie star. She was sitting down at a table with a man, who Athelstan could tell was a  _ strigi _ also. Athelstan was surprised by the look of the man, he looked like—

 

_ Ragnar _ .

 

Softly, Athelstan whispered across the dance hall, only low enough she could hear, “ _ Gyda _ .”

 

Her head snapped up and looked in his general direction. She spied him, standing amongst the throngs of dancing couples, making her undead heart clench at the sight. She felt tears begin to pool in her eyes and she quickly wiped them away, speaking to her to companion, “Someone I know is here. I'll be right back.”

 

She stood up gracefully, not even waiting for her companion to answer. She glided through the dancers until she came face to face with Athelstan.

 

She couldn't help the smile on her face and neither could he.

 

“Athelstan,” she said. “It's a been a long time.”

 

As if on cue, the band struck up the tune ‘It’s Been A Long, Long Time’ by Harry James and Gyda laughed.

 

“Did you plan this?”

 

“I may have  _ convinced  _ them to strike up the tune once you came to me. I was hoping we could dance,” Athelstan held out a hand. “Shall we?”

 

Gyda smirked and took his hand, feeling that long lost warmth between them radiate beneath their joined hands.

 

Athelstan swept her up and brought her into a slow dance, both of them rocking gently to the trumpet.

 

“How have you been?” Athelstan asked.

 

“How have I been?” Gyda laughed. “I should be asking you that! I've heard stories about you in the supernatural community, you’ve become quite the killer. What does my Father think about this?”

 

Athelstan looked away, ashamed.

 

Gyda looked at him, shocked, “Where is my Father _ ,  _ Athelstan?”

 

Athelstan said nothing, looking at their feet.

 

“You haven't brought him back?!” Gyda demanded.

 

Athelstan shook his head, feeling thoroughly chastised.

 

“Why not?!”

 

Athelstan tried to explain himself, “Do you really think he would have me, now?” He smiled ruefully.

 

Gyda softened, and placed a hand on his face, “He would love you, no matter what. Just like I do.”

 

Athelstan stared at her from beneath his lashes and whispered, “Then why'd you leave?”

 

Gyda gazed at him sadly, “You know why.”

 

“And you can't come with me now?”

 

Gyda looked back to her companion, who was watching them intently, although he seemed to have no intention of stopping them.

 

“I'm with Tobias now,” she sighed.

 

“Tobias? That's his name? Where'd you meet him?” Athelstan asked, thankful for the change in conversation.

 

“Out here, in the West. Not long after…” she trailed off, awkward.

 

Another song started, this time Elvis Presley’s ‘Can't Help Falling In Love’. Athelstan held Gyda close and rocked with her, slowly. To an outsider, they looked like two lovers courting.

 

Finally, Athelstan asked, “Are you happy?”

 

Gyda gazed up at him, her eyes beginning to brim with tears, “ _ Yes _ .”

 

Athelstan stopped their swaying and took her face into both his hands, “Then I am happy for you. I love you, Gyda. Never forget that.”

 

Gyda looked at him, sharp, “You’re leaving?”

 

“I must. I cannot encroach on your happiness, not while I'm this way. But do not fear, I promise, we will see each other again.” And with that, he kissed her forehead and flashed away.

 

He was long gone, not hearing her silent sobs as he left her standing in that dance hall, a beautiful figure in her sadness.

His heart broke, or what was left of his heart, to leave her, but he felt that he must. He didn’t want to corrupt Gyda any further than she already was, and besides, she was happy. The man, Tobias, made her happy. For that, he left them alone, not following them to ensure her happiness. 

 

Instead, he travelled back to Europe. He studied at Oxford, got his degree in History. He killed when he wanted to, got whatever he wanted, except the thing he wanted most. He still wasn’t certain whether or not he wanted to bring Ragnar back, not in the state he was in, but he kept his ear to the ground for news of Eli’s whereabouts. 

 

He heard nothing but whispers.

 

Then something happened, seventeen years into the 21st Century, that tilted Athelstan’s world on its axis once more.

 

He was sitting in his study, the very townhouse that he inhabited with Gyda in London over a hundred years ago. He was playing at his piano, plucking out a somber tune, feeling as if it spoke of the confines of his heart, when he heard a knock at his door.

 

Now that was odd, Athelstan never got visitors. People ignored him in his house, despite his wealth and good looks. His countenance scared off even the bravest of men.

 

The knock sounded again, insistent this time, and Athelstan sighed and got up from his bench and walked out to the front door. He listened for the telltale sign of a heartbeat, but there was none. His undead heart leapt, thinking it was Gyda, and threw open the door.

 

It wasn’t Gyda.

 

It was a boy, of an age of sixteen perhaps, his face half-hidden by a black hoodie over his head. He was looking at the ground, not staring at his face.

 

“Athelstan?” the boy asked in English lilt.

 

Athelstan tilted his head, “Yes?”

 

The boy shuffled his feet, still not looking him in the face, “Gyda said you’d be here.”

 

“You know Gyda?” Athelstan, wondering just who in world was this boy and how he knew him. 

 

“Who are you?” Athelstan demanded, voice firm. He was about ready to close the door in this boy’s face if he didn’t answer him.

 

The boy hesitated, then looked up, revealing his face. Athelstan felt his stomach drop to his knees, for what stared back at him, was his own features!

 

“My name is Alfred,” said the boy. “And I’m your  _ son _ .”

 

Enraged at the audacity of this boy, Athelstan shot out and grabbed him by the throat, growling, “ _ You lie _ .”

 

“M-my mother was Pr-princess Judith of Wessex,” choked Alfred. “I-I d-do n-not lie.”

 

“How do I know you are telling the truth?” Athelstan hissed, still holding the boy off the ground by his neck.

 

Shakily, Alfred reached a hand into his jacket pocket, hissing as he pulled out a long thin gold chain, attached to a golden cross.

 

_ Athelstan’s  _ golden cross.

 

Athelstan dropped the boy in shock, and shied away from the offending object, “ _ Where _ did you get  _ that _ ?”

 

Alfred rubbed his neck, wincing, “From the  _ great _ Ragnar Lothbrok. He was wearing it before he gave it to me, before he died.”

 

Athelstan staggered back, not believing the words as they came out of Alfred’s— _ his son’s— _ mouth.

 

“He said—he said ‘Let this cross comfort you, as it had comforted me’,” panted Alfred, standing up straight. “Just my luck, I couldn't wear it for long.”

 

Athelstan only stared, completely in shock.

 

Alfred tucked the cross back into his pocket and looked around, “So...you gonna invite me in or…?”

 

Athelstan shook himself, taking a moment before saying, “Yes, yes, come in. I—I’m sorry about…”

 

“Choking me?” Alfred gave a wry smile. “Gyda said you were different, not exactly the loving Christian my Mother made you out to be.” He stepped inside the door, looking around. He removed his hood, revealing short brown locks styled in the popular fashion of the 21st Century. 

 

“How—how did you…” Athelstan trailed off, unsure of how to ask.

 

“How did I become a vampire?” Alfred asked as he looked around the living room. “The man you used to travel with,  _ Eli _ , did this to me.”

 

Athelstan flared up, “He WHAT?!”

 

“Yeah,” said Alfred. “Ambushed me in my own castle, forced his blood in my mouth, snapped my neck, then left. When I awoke, I had no idea what had happened to me. All I knew, was that I was  _ hungry _ …”

 

Athelstan looked away, feeling awkward and burning. Then, he had enough foresight to ask, “Are you hungry now?”

 

Alfred waved a hand, “Nah. I fed just before I came here, some pretty little thing—college girl. Think she had a thing for ‘younger’ men.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Athelstan sighed and watched as his  _ son _ walked about the length of the downstairs, taking in everything. He seemed impressed by the wealth it exuded. Athelstan wondered if he'd been on his own for a long time, although he had mentioned Gyda…

 

“How do you know Gyda?” Athelstan asked, as Alfred thumbed through the pages of Athelstan’s ironic copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, first edition.

 

“I found her, after hearing whispers of her being in your group, with Eli and...what was the other one?”

 

“Thorunn,” Athelstan choked out. He hadn't said that name for centuries, finding it best to bury it in the past.

 

“Right! Thorunn! Shame what happened to her...anyways, I wanted to meet you but I heard no hide nor hare of your whereabouts, so I tracked down Gyda instead. She's got quite the temper, like you,” Alfred chuckled, throwing the book aside.

 

Athelstan watched it fall and bit back a remark. 

 

Instead, he asked, “Where, and  _ when _ , did you meet her?”

 

“Woodstock, 1969,” Alfred said. “Didn't believe me when I said I was your son, held me down in the mud with her heel to my head until I had proven that I had met her Father. God, what a woman!” Alfred looked slightly wistful as he said this.

 

Athelstan suppressed a smirk. Yes, he could envision Gyda doing something like that.

 

“Why are you here?” Athelstan had to ask.

 

“Because I wanted to meet my Father,” said Alfred, looking surprised. “...And because I may know the whereabouts of our mutual ‘friend’, Eli.”

 

“Oh?” Athelstan said. “Enlighten me, please.”

 

“Ah, ah, ah!” Alfred held up a finger, stopping him. “First, I want you to answer my questions.”

 

Athelstan sighed, annoyed, and plopped down back onto his piano bench. He hit a key and the sound reverberated across the room.

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“Is it true you were crucified?” Alfred, apparently, was not holding back.

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Athelstan grit out, playing another note.

 

“Did it hurt?”

 

Athelstan turned to look at him, “Immensely.”

 

“But then King Ecbert saved you.”

 

“Yes, he did,” Athelstan sighed, remembering with clarity that day. That day of complete horror for Athelstan, until he had been saved. He'd never forgotten the kindness Ecbert had shown him, either out of the goodness of his own heart or for some other purpose, but that didn't matter now. Hadn't mattered in a long time. Ecbert was long dead.

 

“Did you hear what happened to him?” Alfred asked.

 

“To Ecbert? I assume he died.”

 

“Yes, but do you know how?”

 

Athelstan shook his head.

 

“He killed himself, leaving me to be King, facing an army of  _ heathens _ .”

 

Athelstan hit a dark note on the piano, surprised by Ecbert’s actions. He always seemed a devout Christian man, in his own way. Athelstan wondered what drove him to such a decision.

 

“Did you know about my Mother?” Alfred suddenly asked.

 

“Did I know she was pregnant?” Athelstan began playing a full melody, morose and sweet at the same time. “ _ No _ . If I did…”

 

“Would you have stayed?”

 

“...Maybe. Maybe not.”

 

“I bet if  _ Ragnar  _ asked you to, you would have abandoned us without a second thought,” Alfred spat, vindictive.

 

Athelstan stopped playing and turned to Alfred, warning, “ _ Careful _ …”

 

“I'm not afraid of you,  _ Father _ ,” Alfred hissed, drawing himself up fully. “I guess it's a good thing I didn't know you for so long, so I didn't have to suffer the utter disappointment I feel now.”

 

Athelstan flashed up and pushed Alfred up against the bookshelf, scattering some of the books, “Is that all of your questions?”

 

“Just one more: did you love her? My Mother?”

 

Athelstan slowly released him, “No.”

 

Alfred sighed, having expected that answer. It still hurt to hear anyways, he saw how much his Mother pined after his long lost Father. He hoped, wherever she was, that she didn't see the mess they both had become.

 

“What happened to her? Your Mother?” Athelstan asked, picking up the books that had fallen.

 

“Oh, now you care?” Alfred scoffed. He saw the look on Athelstan’s face and sighed, saying, “I killed her.”

 

Athelstan’s head shot up, “You what?”

 

“It wasn't on purpose!” Alfred yelled, offended by his tone. “She was the one who found me, after...Anyways, as you well know, the hunger you feel when you awake as a newborn is  _ excruciating. _ She was  _ right there _ , in my face, her neck bared to me and before I knew what was happening, I had drained her dry.”

 

Athelstan looked away. He saw the utter sorrow on his son’s face and it made him uncomfortable. This was exactly the sort of thing Athelstan worried about for years: what if he saw Ragnar? Would he be able to prevent himself from devouring him? And now to hear that his own son experienced that, it made him feel an emotion he had not felt in a long time.

 

_ Empathy _ .

 

“I'm... _ sorry _ ,” Athelstan said, feeling awkward.

 

Alfred didn't say anything, seeing the truth written on his Father’s face. It made him squirm.

 

Instead he said, “So, you wanna know where Eli is, correct?”

 

“ _ Correct _ ,” said Athelstan. If not to bring back Ragnar, then maybe to avenge his son.

 

“He's here,” said Alfred, looking around them. “In London.”

 

“Why?” Athelstan ground out. “He's not looking for me, is he?”

 

“I don't know about that,” said Alfred. “But it  _ is  _ London Fashion Week, and we both know how much Eli  _ adores  _ fashion.”

 

Athelstan rolled his eyes, placing the books back on the shelves. 

 

“Well, my work here is done,” said Alfred, making to leave.

 

“You’re leaving?” Athelstan asked. “You—you can stay here, if you like…”

 

Alfred smirked, “Thanks but no thanks. But don't worry, I’ll see you around,  _ Father _ .” And with that, he flashed out of the townhouse, leaving no trace of him in his wake.

 

Athelstan got another surprise a few days later, while he was still debating whether or not to contact Eli. He was in the shower, washing his curly locks, when he heard his front door unlock and someone step onto the threshold.

 

He flashed out of the shower, barely stopping to turn off the scalding hot water and wrapping a towel around his waist. He ran downstairs and blindly grabbed at the intruder, shoving them up against the wall, until he heard a startled scream.

 

“Athelstan!”

 

It was Gyda.

 

Athelstan immediately dropped her, stepping back, apologizing profusely.

 

“It's alright, Athelstan,” Gyda chuckled weakly, rubbing at her shoulder blades. “It was most likely my fault for sneaking in like that.”

 

“No,” Athelstan shook his wet curls, “No, I should have known it was you.”

 

Gyda waved a hand, “Don't worry about it Athelstan. I understand you talked to Alfred?”

 

“Yes,” said Athelstan. “He's…”

 

“A good kid,” Gyda finished, smiling. “Just lost, like someone else I know.”

 

Athelstan looked at her, saying nothing.

 

“He told you where Eli is, I suppose?” Gyda asked, fiddling with her pink lace top.

 

“Yes, he did.”

 

“And did you find him? Get the spell?

 

“Not...yet,” Athelstan hesitated.

 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Gyda demanded. “He's my Father, I want him back just as much as you!”

 

“It's just…” Athelstan stopped.

 

“Just  _ what _ ? It's been over a thousand years, Athelstan!”

 

“I know what Eli will want, if I ask it of him.”

 

Gyda paused, “ _ Oh _ .”

 

“Yes,  _ oh _ .”

 

“You don't have to give into him,” Gyda said. “ _ Make him _ give it to you.”

 

Athelstan laughed, harsh, “I wish it were that easy.”

 

“Make it that easy!” Gyda yelled. “You are Athelstan! All manner of supernatural creatures shudder at the mere mention of your name! Make him see that!”

 

Athelstan looked at her, considering. He knew, logically, that he stood no chance in a physical match with Eli. He was much older than him and a thousand times stronger, but maybe...

 

“Alright,” he finally said. “I'll go see him.”

 

“Good,” Gyda smiled her sweet smile, the one Athelstan loved. “Now go put some clothes on.”

* * *

Athelstan dried his hair, combing his curls back from his face. He shaved off his stubble and applied Serge Lutens’ Berneo 1834 cologne, making himself smell even more appealing than he already did.

 

He pulled on a crisp white button up, black dress pants and a matching dress coat. He tied his black tie into a perfect Windsor knot. Over top he pulled on a dark blue peacoat, for it was September and it was quite chilly in London. It didn't bother him but he needed to keep it on for appearances sake.

 

He met Gyda downstairs, who insisted on going with him—at a distance, Athelstan made her agree. She had changed too. She wore a white lace dress with white stockings and gold glittery slippers. Over top she wore her own peacoat, pink in color and her face was subtly rosy with makeup. Her hair was long and curled in ringlets around her face, making her look like an angel. She smelled like one too, spritzing her Coco Mademoiselle dainty on her wrists and neck.

 

“You ready to go?” Athelstan asked, pulling on his leather gloves.

 

“As ready as I'll ever be. You sure he’ll be there?” Gyda held out an arm, reminiscent of the old days.

 

“He’ll be there.”

 

They walked out of the townhouse, Athelstan pausing to lock the door behind him,  _ not  _ that he was worried about thieves and then lead Gyda to the attached garage, where he unlocked his car. His black Aston Martin.

 

“Oh,” said Gyda. “Fancy.”

 

“Like you don't like fast cars,” Athelstan teased.

 

“True,” Gyda shrugged, getting into the passenger seat. “Tobias has a red Ferrari. I scoffed at him when he ‘ _ bought _ ’ it but, I grew to love it.”

 

“ _ Tobias _ …” Athelstan drawled the word out. “Why isn't he with you?”

 

“I thought it best if I came alone. I figured, until my Father is back safely in your arms, you wouldn't mesh well together.”

 

“Smart,” Athelstan smirked.

 

“Have I ever been anything but?” Gyda teased as they pulled out of the garage and peeled down the street.

 

They drove quickly to the center of London’s Fashion Week. They parked and walked into the building, surveying the room.

 

“Now, what was the plan again?” Athelstan asked.

 

“Find Eli, let you talk to him, follow the both of you until he gives you what he wants, and if it gets bad, then—and only then—will I intervene,” Gyda sighed, reciting the plan for about the hundredth time that day.

 

“Okay,” said Athelstan, smiling slightly at her. He placed a kiss on her brow and then went to go look at the people sitting in the chairs.

 

He didn't have to look long. He found him, sitting in the front row, a convenient empty chair beside him.

 

He had cut his hair since Athelstan last saw him, his hair shaved short on the sides and curly on top. His beard was shaved too, with just stubble across his jaw. He wore a cream colored suit with a dark brown sweater underneath. His legs were crossed and he was seated calmly in his chair, sunglasses on.

 

Athelstan walked slowly up to him and smoothly sat down beside him. Eli made no move to notice he was there.

 

Until—

 

“Hello, Eli.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprised about Alfred? 
> 
> We are getting close! Just hold on, Ragnar is coming home!


	21. TWENTY-ONE

_Love of mine, someday you will die_

_But I'll be close behind and I'll follow you into the dark_

_No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white,_

_Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for a hint of a spark_

_\- I Will Follow You Into The Dark_

* * *

“I was wondering when you were going to show up, Athelstan,” Eli replied, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

 

“I should have known you were expecting me,” Athelstan sighed, crossing his legs. They weren't looking at each other, to an outsider they looked like complete strangers, although they oddly complimented each other with their incredibly good looks.

 

“Oh, but of course! I've  _ always  _ been watching you, you  _ and  _ Gyda, of course.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“So, let me guess, you’re here to ask me about the spell, to bring back your  _ precious Ragnar _ ,” spat Eli. “I'm honestly surprised it took you this long.”

 

“Yeah, no thanks to you. Going into hiding? Childish, Eli, superbly.”

 

“Well I wasn't going to make it easy on you,” Eli smirked at him, both of them looking at each other for the first time in their conversation.

 

“What's with those  _ ridiculous  _ sunglasses?” Athelstan asked.

 

Eli sighed, suddenly annoyed, “I pissed off a very powerful witch. She put a hex on me, discoloring my eyes to their, what’s the term now?  _ Vampire _ form, so these  _ ridiculous _ sunglasses are here to stay, for the time being.”

 

“I'm sure you’ll find a way to reverse it, you always do.”

 

“Don't worry, I'm already working on it. The best way to reverse a hex, is to  _ kill _ the witch who cast it. If I only I could find the bloody bitch,” Eli snarled.

 

Athelstan chuckled, “Oh, someone evading you for once? Forgive me if I'm rooting for her.”

 

“You always were a spoilsport. So, you wanna make a deal? Call off your  _ bitch  _ of a guard dog and come with me, and we’ll make one.”

 

Athelstan glared at Eli’s use of the word  _ bitch _ , but looked back at Gyda, who was standing in the back, waiting for his signal. He gave her a slight wave of his hand, calling her off.

 

Eli saw this and stood up, offering a hand, “Shall we?”

 

Athelstan raised a brow, “Don't you want to see the fashion show first?”

 

Eli shrugged, “I've already seen the designs. Same as last year. Come on.”

 

Athelstan stared at the hand a moment before standing up on his own and following Eli out the center.

 

“Stay back, Gyda,” Athelstan warned under his breath.

 

He saw her nod reluctantly and stop in the crowd. Athelstan and Eli walked out the doors, into the gray, chill afternoon. Eli shrugged on his brown overcoat, giving the illusion that he was cold to the outsiders.

 

“So,” Athelstan asked as they walked to the parked cars. “Where is it you live?”

 

“Oh, I don't live here, Athelstan. I'm just visiting. I have a  _ lush  _ hotel room at The Principal London. Join me for a drink there, and we’ll discuss our... _ deal _ ,” Eli smirked. “I trust you have a car?”

 

Athelstan grit his teeth and led him to his parked Aston Martin, where they smoothly entered. Athelstan drove them to the Principal, parking and Eli led them up to his room, which was beautiful with its cream colored walls and a canopy bed. It was nicely furnished, and incredibly lush, like Eli said.

 

There was a bar against one wall, made of deep mahogany wood with several crystal bottles of alcohol. Eli waltzed over to one crystal tumbler and held it out to Athelstan.

 

“Some brandy,  _ brother _ ?” Eli teased.

 

“Stop calling me brother and I will,” said Athelstan.

 

Eli smirked and poured them both a drink. He handed one off to Athelstan, who took it and took a sip.

 

“So,  _ Athelstan _ ,” Eli began, taking a large gulp of his drink, “you’ve been  _ naughty  _ these past few centuries: killing vampires and other supernatural alike. People fear you.  _ You’ve  _ become the thing you hated most:  _ me _ .”

 

“I am  _ nothing  _ like you!” Athelstan growled, crushing his glass in his hand and spilling the brandy on the white carpet.

 

This hit a deep nerve inside Athelstan. All his years, he'd feared he'd wind up just like Eli and to hear those words come out of his mouth, it pushed the button hard. 

 

Eli acted as if he didn't even notice this outburst, “Oh, but you are.” He seemed delighted in this fact. “You hide it beneath your facade of gentlemanliness but it comes out and it comes out  _ often _ .”

 

“Tell me, did it hurt when Gyda left you?” Eli plunged the knife deep, swift and merciless.

 

Athelstan cracked his neck, “Don't talk about her, you bastard!”

 

“Okay, how about the fact that you waited an extra two hundred years to attempt to bring Ragnar back?”

 

“Try again,” Athelstan said lightly.

 

“Fine. How about our deal?” Eli tilted his head.

 

“We  _ haven't  _ made one.”

 

“Well, then,” said Eli, removing his sunglasses, exposing his red and black eyes. They looked a little disconcerting set into a non-threatening face, at the moment. “Let's make one now.”

 

“Alright,” said Athelstan. “State your terms.”

 

“You know my terms, Athelstan,” said Eli, fiddling with his glass. “The same as they’ve always been.”

 

Athelstan sighed, having been fearing this, “I thought maybe you had given up your inane attempt at trying to gain my affections.”

 

“Oh, I'm not trying to gain your affections,” said Eli, grinning, his eyes mad. “No, I believe that to be fruitless now. I just want to  _ enjoy  _ you, one last time.” His eyes roamed his body hungrily.

 

Athelstan grit his teeth, “ _ Fine _ . Anything else?”

 

“No,” said Eli. “That's it. Sleep with me and I'll give you the spell, no tricks.”

 

“And when do you want to do this, pray tell?” Athelstan asked, although he already knew the answer.

 

“ _ Now _ !” Eli dropped his glass and flashed forward, forcing Athelstan backwards onto the bed. He grabbed Athelstan’s face and pulled him into a bruising kiss.

 

Athelstan didn't struggle, didn't do anything at all really except lay there and let him kiss him. 

 

Until Eli pulled back and said, “There is one caveat to our deal, love. You have to respond.”

 

Athelstan made a face but did as he said, kissing him back, just as forcefully.

 

“Now that's more like it!” Eli laughed, tearing at his and Athelstan’s clothes.

 

“ _ Don't  _ rip the suit!” Athelstan yelled. “It's custom.”

 

Eli laughed, loud, “Of course it is.” But he took care in removing Athelstan’s clothes, kissing delicately across his exposed collarbones.

 

He nipped a bite into Athelstan’s neck, annoyed when he didn't startle. He kissed down his beautifully sculpted chest, nipping and biting here and there, trying to get a reaction out of him, 

until he reached his dress pants.

 

He removed them and Athelstan’s boxer briefs in one swift move, exposing his cock. Eli grinned at the sight of it and took him down his throat, causing Athelstan to moan aloud.

 

Eli hummed contently around his cock, bobbing his head up and down. Athelstan moaned again, burying a hand in Eli’s curls. He pushed Eli’s head down, forcing him to take his cock to the root, feeling vindictive, but Eli did not gag, in fact he seemed pleased.

 

He sucked him vigorously, bringing him to full hardness. Once he was hard, he let up, pushing Athelstan’s hand off his head. He kissed back up Athelstan’s chest, claiming him for another bruising kiss, while removing his own pants and boxers.

 

“Suck me off,” Eli rasped against his lips.

 

Athelstan pressed his lips together and pushed Eli back onto the bed, straddling his hips.

 

“Oh, I love it when you take charge, Athelstan,” Eli teased, but he quickly shut up when Athelstan started biting down his chest, going further and further down until he reached his already thick cock.

 

Athelstan wrapped his lips around him, taking him to the root. Eli moaned and lifted his hips, his cock hitting the back of Athelstan’s throat. 

 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ Athelstan, right there!” Eli moaned.

 

Athelstan rolled his eyes but continued what he was doing, sucking him off hard and fast. He could tell Eli was about to burst, his ministrations bringing him to the edge quickly.

 

“Not yet!” gasped Eli, pulling him off. “Not yet. I want to come inside you.”

 

“Of course you do,” remarked Athelstan sarcastically.

 

Eli rolled his discolored eyes and forced Athelstan to lie on his stomach. He flashed over to his suitcase, pulling out a bottle of lube.

 

“This stuff is great,” grinned Eli, hiking a leg over Athelstan. He gave his ass a slap, watching as it jiggled. “Now, spread your legs for me.”

 

Athelstan did, burying his face into the pillow.

 

Eli spread a generous amount on his fingers, before snaking one to Athelstan’s entrance. Athelstan couldn't help himself clenching up.

 

“ _ Relax _ ,” said Eli, probing his hole. “How long has it been since you've done this?”

 

“Since the last time we were together,” Athelstan gritted out.

 

“Oh? That long?” Eli seemed surprised.

 

“I  _ was _ a monk, remember?”

 

Eli barked out a laugh, and entered his first digit inside Athelstan. Athelstan bit down on the pillow to stop himself from crying out. Eli pushed it in and out before quickly adding another, scissoring him open.

 

He added one more, stretching him so completely. He fucked him relentlessly on his fingers, hitting that spot deep inside Athelstan that made him see stars.

 

Eli decided that was enough and removed his fingers. He slicked up his cock and positioned himself at Athelstan’s entrance, bracing his hands on his hips. Athelstan gripped the pillow tight, willing it to be over as soon as possible.

 

Eli pushed in slowly, letting Athelstan to adjust to his size once more. He slowly pulled out and shoved back in, startling a moan out of Athelstan. This spurred Eli on to begin to pick up the pace, soon fucking him deep into the mattress.

 

Athelstan moaned as Eli’s cock hit his prostate over and over, making him see fireworks across his eyelids. He hated that Eli could make him feel this way, when Eli was someone he loathed so much. 

 

It wasn't right.

 

But, what about any of this, was right?

 

They found their release fast, Athelstan hating himself for every moment he was wrapped in that horrible pleasure with Eli. But soon, it was over. And Athelstan could  _ breathe  _ again.

 

He was getting Ragnar back, but first…

 

“We need to talk about something,” Athelstan panted as Eli collapsed beside him in the bed.

 

“Oh, don't worry. I got your precious scroll. Kept it on me all these years for this special occasion.”

 

“...Thanks but that's not what I was talking about.”

 

Eli raised a brow, “Then what?”

 

“The  _ fact _ that you turned my son,” Athelstan spoke this so calmly, as if the very words didn't anger him to his core.

 

“Oh, you finally found out about it, huh?”

 

“Yes, I found out about it and I want to ask you  _ why _ .”

 

“Why? Because I could!”

 

“Oh, don't give me that arrogant bullshit, Eli!” Athelstan scoffed. “The day you left, after the werewolf battle, that's where you were going, wasn't it? I asked you what you were doing and you said that you couldn't tell me, so why Eli? Surely you can tell me now!”

 

Eli looked at him, his eyes unreadable in their mass of red and black, “I don't know if I can.”

 

Athelstan sat up, incredibly annoyed with this man, “Why not? It's wasn't the First, was it?”

 

“What? No!” Eli scoffed. “No, much, much worse.”

 

Athelstan stilled, “You mean... _ him _ ?”

 

Eli nodded once.

 

“What does Lu—” 

 

Eli cut him off, “ _ Don’t  _ say his name. Names have power, Athelstan, it would do you well to remember it.”

 

“Fine. What does  _ the Devil _ want with my son?”

 

“Even if I knew, I couldn't tell you.”

 

“So, you’re useless then,” Athelstan stood up and began dressing again.

 

“Not useless, no,” Eli stood up and walked back to his suitcase. He rummaged through it a second before taking what he'd been looking for. 

 

The scroll.

 

“Here,” said Eli, shoving it into his hands, “A deal’s a deal.”

 

Athelstan snatched it up and unraveled it, glancing over the words, making sure they were correct.

 

“Oh, it’s all there, I wouldn't  _ dare  _ fool you twice,” Eli gave him a smirk. 

 

Athelstan pocketed the scroll and stared at Eli, “Thanks, I guess.”

 

Eli waved a hand, “Don't mention it. I know when I'm beat.”

 

Athelstan highly doubted that but said nothing. Instead he held out a hand for Eli to shake. Eli raised a brow but took it and they shook hands, once, twice, before letting go.

 

“Now go,” said Eli. “Get out of my sight, before I change my mind.”

 

Athelstan didn't need to hear those words twice and he flashed out of the hotel room and down to his car, before pulling out his smartphone and dialing Gyda. They had exchanged phone numbers earlier that day.

 

“Athelstan!” Gyda picked up on the first ring. “I was just about to call the Cavalry on you. Did you get the scroll?”

 

“I did,” Athelstan didn't recognize the sound of his own voice. It sounded breathless with excitement and... _ happiness. _

 

“Well, then,” said Gyda, Athelstan could hear the smirk in her voice. “I believe we have a spell to cast.”

* * *

Athelstan couldn't help the smile on his face as he drove back towards his home. His whole body was buzzing with feeling, more feeling than he had felt in over a hundred years. It felt strange, but  _ good _ . He felt giddy with excitement as to what was to come.

 

_ Ragnar was coming back!  _

 

Coming home, to Athelstan.

 

He parked his car in the garage and quickly ran up to his door, unlocking it and going inside. He was immediately bombarded by Gyda, who pulled him into a crushing hug.

 

“You did it!” She cried, burying her face into his neck.

 

“I did,” replied Athelstan, feeling the weight of the scroll in his coat pocket. It felt amazing, pressing up against him, with the knowledge of what it contained.

 

“Well, let me see it,” said Gyda, making grabby hands. “I want to make sure it's what it's supposed to be.”

 

Athelstan laughed, feeling light, and pulled it out, handing it over to her. She unrolled it, her eyes roaming over the words quickly, reading it with efficiency.

 

“It's the real spell alright,” Gyda said. “It seems for once Eli was telling the truth.”

 

“Yeah, that's a first,” said Athelstan.

 

“So, what's the plan?” Gyda asked, handing the scroll back to Athelstan.

 

“We wait for a storm to pass through, which, judging by the weather, will be any day now and then we’ll start the spell. In the meantime, we need to gather the supplies,” said Athelstan, taking the scroll and placing it in a box in his study, which he locked with  _ magick _ .

 

“What do we need?” Gyda asked, folding her arms.

 

“Some hemlock, saffron, aloes, and mandrake. I already have the opium,” replied Athelstan.

 

Gyda smirked, “What do you use that for?”

 

“Surprisingly, nothing. I obtained some before they were outlawed, so it would not be hard to get some when the time finally came to do the spell.”

 

“Well, I know where to get those supplies we need, there's a witchy shop here in London. I can drive there and obtain the things we need,” said Gyda.

 

“You want to drive  _ my  _ car?” Athelstan asked, teasing.

 

“I promise I'll be careful,” teased Gyda. “Not a scratch on it.”

 

“Alright,” said Athelstan, kissing her forehead, “Go.”

 

Gyda smirked at him and flashed away, out the door, snatching his keys out his pocket as she went. Athelstan heard the telltale signs of the car starting and he watched through the open window as she backed it out the garage, being careful as she promised. 

 

Once she left, Athelstan walked back into his study and pulled out the book that contained the great Ragnar Lothbrok’s sagas. He lovingly stroked the binding, feeling the love he felt for this man radiate through the pages. He opened the book and began to read. He smiled as he read the story of how Ragnar gained the affections of Lagertha, strangling the great wolf she had set upon him.

 

_ ‘Sounds like Lagertha,’  _ Athelstan thought, amused. 

 

Oh, how he missed her too. He didn't think about her much, finding it just as hard to think of her lovely face and her warrior spirit. Athelstan always admired her, for her courage and the determination she had to protect the ones she loved. Athelstan always aspired to be like her, to protect his family at any cost. 

 

And  _ when  _ Ragnar came back, Athelstan would stop at  _ nothing _ to keep him safe and by his side, for all eternity.  _ If  _ he would have him.

 

That thought sent a shiver down Athelstan’s spine. What if Ragnar hated him, for leaving him? For allowing himself to be killed? Athelstan couldn't fathom the amount of pain Ragnar must have felt when he found Athelstan’s body. He had been so selfish, only thinking of himself when he died and not of what it must have done to the others, what it must have done to Ragnar.

 

Athelstan vowed with himself to make it up to him, by any means necessary. If Ragnar wanted him to stab himself repeatedly in the heart with a wooden stake, he would, just to see Ragnar satisfied and happy.

 

He read the book for a few hours, before turning to his piano and playing a jaunty tune, feeling his happiness flow through his fingers. He heard Gyda enter the house soon and played on, letting her enter the study with a paper bag full of the supplies.

 

“Is that something new?” Gyda asked as she set the bag onto the top of the piano.

 

“Something to reflect my mood,” replied Athelstan, his fingers running across the keys rapidly.

 

“I like it,” smiled Gyda.

 

Athelstan stopped and looked at the bag, “You got everything?”

 

“Yep! The cashier looked at me a little weird though, I think she could sort of guess what I was planning to use it for. Although I highly doubt she thought it would work,” Gyda smirked.

 

“Well, let's  _ hope  _ it does,” said Athelstan, looking through her things.

 

“Oh, I know it will,” said Gyda, smiling confidently.

* * *

It took a few days, but the weatherman finally promised a big thunderstorm that night. Gyda and Athelstan spent their time waiting catching up with each other, telling one another tales of what had transpired with them while they were separated.

 

“So you killed him?” Gyda asked, sitting with him on the couch, sipping from a wine glass of blood.

 

They were talking about Athelstan’s time in the 1920s and his meeting with the vampire named Jimmy.

 

“Yes,” said Athelstan, sipping on his own wine glass. “And I don't regret it.”

 

“I wouldn't expect you to,” said Gyda, “I wouldn't. He tried to trap you, betray you. How is it he knew about me, you wonder?”

 

“I'm sure  _ he  _ told him about you,” said Athelstan, suppressing a shudder. He still couldn't believe that  _ he  _ was real, that  _ he  _ was watching him. Watching all of them. Biding  _ his  _ time, but for what? 

 

What did  _ he  _ want?

 

Gyda actually shuddered, “I never liked  _ him _ , not from the stories you used to tell and from what I've heard about  _ him _ in our travels, especially that story from Leon.”

 

“Well,  _ he  _ is  _ the Devil _ ,” Athelstan said wryly. “Speaking of Leon, have you seen him in last few centuries?”

 

“No,” Gyda replied sadly. “I trust he's out there somewhere, probably in France. He always loved France.”

 

“Yes, he did,” smiled Athelstan, remembering the man who treated him with kindness in their days together, perhaps seeing a kindred spirit in him. Neither one of them asked for this life, it was given to them by beings beyond their control and they were forced to make the best of it. Athelstan wondered what Leon thought of his reputation. Was he sad for him?

 

“Tell me about Tobias,” Athelstan said, trying to change the subject. “How did you meet.”

 

“Well…” Gyda tilted her head, thinking. “I met him out West in America, as I said. He was a cowboy—”

 

“A cowboy?” Athelstan laughed.

 

“Yes,” Gyda glared at him. “A kind one, one with a moral code. He’s an excellent shot, proficient with guns. Anyways, I was in a saloon, enjoying a glass of sherry with some girls I had befriended, when he walked in, with his spurs clicking across the wooden floor. We looked at each other and it was as if a jolt of electricity went through my body, he looked  _ so  _ familiar.”

 

Athelstan smiled but said nothing. He knew why that was, he looked startlingly like Ragnar, with the same ocean blue eyes and mischievous smile. 

 

“Well, he was immediately taken with me of course,” Gyda teased.

 

“Of course,” said Athelstan, raising his glass of blood in mock salute to her.

 

She giggled and went on, “I didn't give in at first. I was still heartbroken over what had happened…” At that they both went silent and Athelstan placed a hand over hers.

 

“Gyda, I am  _ so  _ sorry for the things I said to you that night. I didn't mean any of it, I swear it.”

 

Gyda smiled sadly, “I know, but I thought it best if I left anyways. As I said to you in my letter, I just couldn't bear the thought of seeing you with my Father while I still—while I still  _ loved  _ you.”

 

“Do you still love me?”

 

Gyda looked into his eyes, “Yes. I promised you I always would and I will. I'm in love with Tobias now, but I will never forget the all-consuming love I bore you, and still do, despite everything.”

 

Athelstan brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, reminiscent of their younger days, “And I will always love you, little dove.”

 

Gyda’s eyes filled tears, “Oh, Athelstan. I have waited for over a century to hear you speak those words again. It fills my heart with such happiness.”

 

“I will always bring you happiness, Gyda. I wish to never bring you pain, never again,” Athelstan promised.

 

“I believe you,” breathed Gyda, enchanted by the man she had loved for so long. 

 

After a moment, Gyda spoke again, “You said, the last time we met, that you weren't sure that my Father would want you now, with the way you are. Whatever could possibly give you that idea, Athelstan?”

 

Athelstan looked away, “You’ve heard the stories. My reputation is one to be feared—”

 

“And my Father wasn't?” Gyda interrupted. “We read the sagas together, don't you remember Athelstan? He was feared too—”

 

“And respected,” Athelstan cut in. 

 

“You  _ are  _ respected,” Gyda insisted. “People speak with begrudging respect of how you never go back on your word, how you always stay true to your promises, as long as the other stays true too.”

 

_ ‘Not every promise,’ _ thought Athelstan darkly, hearing Thorunn’s screams ringing in his ears once more. He had once promised himself to protect her and guide her, and he did neither. That haunted him for centuries, and he was terrified to tell Gyda the truth, even now.

 

“Even so,” Athelstan said instead. “He might hate me, for allowing myself to die, when we were so close to conquering the Paris of his dreams.”

 

“I highly doubt that,” said Gyda. “You were his most prized treasure.”

 

Athelstan ducked his head, thinking back on those early days at the farm. Oh, how he feared them! But he soon began to respect them, and even like them, and his feelings for Ragnar…

 

They were ever evolving, until one day, he loved him. He didn't know he did for a long a time, not until he believed Ragnar to be dead from conquering Paris, but as he's had the years to reflect on it, he probably started loving him when Ragnar gifted him his armband, a sign of brotherhood between the two. Now, Athelstan saw it as a sign of their love, and he so hated himself for throwing it away. If only he had it now…

 

Thunder boomed in the sky and Athelstan and Gyda looked at each other. The time was drawing near.

 

“I have to go and get our sacrifice, will you put out the tarp and gather the supplies?” Athelstan asked, setting his glass of blood down.

 

“Of course,” Gyda nodded. 

 

Athelstan stood to get up, shrugging on his dress coat and grabbing an umbrella.

 

“Oh, and Athelstan?” Gyda called as he headed out the front door. “Bring back someone despicable.”

 

Athelstan grinned at her before waltzing out the door. The rain began to fall in dizzy little drops, darkening the pavement. Athelstan brandished his umbrella, opening it up, and stole down the street in quick steps. 

 

It was late, which meant all the worse kinds of people were out, just ripe for Athelstan’s picking. He and Gyda had both agreed to have the sacrifice be human, wanting the assurance of a dead human could bring to the spell. Athelstan’s ears pricked at the sound of a woman in distress and knew he found someone.

 

He flashed to a dark alleyway, where a man was in the process of raping a poor young girl. Enraged, Athelstan grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck, forcing him off of her and up against the alley wall.

 

“Oh, you’ll do nicely,” Athelstan purred, flashing his red and black eyes at the man, who had enough foresight to be scared. Athelstan placed his hand on the man’s head and murmured an incantation, effectively knocking him out. He turned to the girl, who was hurriedly trying the gain some decency by pulling on her clothes. 

 

She didn't seem frightened of Athelstan, in fact, once her clothes were on, she threw her arms around him, babbling, “Thank you! Thank you!” Over and over.

 

Athelstan patted her face gently and brought her eyes to meet his, “ _ You will forget this ever happened. Go home and be happy. And never walk alone so late at night again _ .” The girl nodded dumbly and stood up, walking out of the alleyway.

 

Athelstan hoisted the unconscious would-be rapist over his shoulder and carried him back to his townhouse, where Gyda had everything ready. All the ingredients necessary for the spell were laid out over the tarp. The living room had been cleared out, making room for everything.

 

Athelstan tossed the body onto the tarp with a look of disgust on his face.

 

“What’d he do?” Gyda asked.

 

“Tried to rape a girl,” Athelstan replied. 

 

Gyda snarled and held out a dagger, one of her own. It was a beautiful thing, with pearl inlay on the handle.

 

“For the sacrifice,” she said. 

 

“Why are you like that?” He was referring to her form, she was looking like a twelve year old girl again, although she still wore her modern clothes.

 

“I want my Father to recognize me when he comes back,” replied Gyda. “Are you ready?”

 

“I have waited over a thousand years for this moment,” replied Athelstan. “Yes,  _ I’m ready _ .”

 

The rain was falling in droves now, lighting flashed angrily across the sky. Athelstan placed all the herbs into a bowl and set them aflame with a wave of his hand, the sickly sweet smell permeating the room. He picked up the scroll and began reading the ancient words aloud. At the sound of his screaming voice, the man Athelstan had brought in had startled awake. He tried to flee but Gyda held him firm, baring his neck over the tarp.

 

Athelstan brandished the dagger and brought it over the terrified man’s throat, whispering in his ear, “Think of this as payment for your grievous sins.” Then he sliced his neck, from side to side, the blood pouring out him like a waterfall. 

 

Gyda let go of the man and they watched as he scrabbled at his throat, the light quickly dying from his eyes. He fell to the ground, dead, and Athelstan held the dagger over his palm, making a long incision, letting his blood mix with the man’s. Then he took up the scroll again and read the words again, louder and louder, until he was shouting them over the raging storm outside.

 

Suddenly, thunder cracked in the sky and lights went out, all down the street, in one angry BOOM! And as quickly as they were out, they flickered back on, and Athelstan and Gyda watched, entranced, the blood on the floor began to shift.

 

But it didn't shift into one body, no. It began to separate itself into two separate entities. They looked at each other, confused, and Athelstan felt fear grip his heart, until one of the forms began to take shape of  _ him _ .

 

Of  _ Ragnar _ .

 

He looked different from what Athelstan remembered,  _ older _ , but not by much, for the vampirism made even the oldest look young again. He was bald, which was odd to Athelstan, and wearing tattered clothing. The clothing he must have died in. His beard was long and in a tangle, but Athelstan did not care. It was him, his one and only! His beautiful Ragnar.

 

“My Gods!” Athelstan heard Gyda gasp and for the first time since seeing Ragnar laid peacefully on his floor, did he look up to see to what Gyda was referring.

 

She was staring, shocked, with blood tears running down her face, at the other form the blood had taken.

 

_ It was Lagertha! _

 

Looking just as beautiful as the last day Athelstan saw her, with her golden hair in it’s intricate knots and rings of black circling her eyes. She was in warrior’s garb, she must have died in battle. The way Athelstan always assumed she'd go.

 

“How—how is this possible?” Gyda blubbered.

 

Athelstan shook his head, no words forming on his lips. He could only wait and watch as finally—

 

_ Finally _

 

They opened their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HE'S HERE!! 
> 
> along with a special surprise ;)
> 
> OKAY! This is it! I'll be posting the next chapter in just a few hours, I don't want to leave ya'll on that *awful* cliffhanger ;)


	22. TWENTY-TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, as promised
> 
> The reunion of Ragnar and Athelstan, at last!
> 
> I hope this doesn't disappoint:)

_'I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.'_

_\- Pablo Neruda_

* * *

It was as if Athelstan’s world stood still, when Ragnar and Lagertha gasped to life, convulsing from the pain of the _magick_ being settled into their bodies.

Ragnar was a wreck, stumbling forward off the floor, trying to fight through the pain. It seemed he hadn't noticed the other the occupants of the room, too preoccupied with this new feeling in his body.

The sights, the smells, the _sounds_.

They were all too overwhelming to Ragnar, who pushed things out of his path in a blind rage, trying to stop the pain in his body. Lagertha seemed more subdued, gritting her teeth and staring around the room in wonder. She hadn't noticed her daughter yet.

Finally, Athelstan decided to move forward, to try and comfort Ragnar, but no sooner than he did was Ragnar rounding on him, not seeing him clearly in his pain. He grabbed him roughly by his shirt and held him up to his face. Lighting flashed through the windows, illuminating their faces, and Athelstan was brought back to a time, long ago, when he was held by Ragnar like this. How things have changed…

“Peace, Ragnar, peace,” Athelstan tried to speak clear in Old Norse, the words coming to him easily, even after all this time.

Ragnar’s eyes widened and he stared at Athelstan’s face for the first time in over a thousand years. He dropped his hands from Athelstan’s shirt in shock. He couldn't seem to be comprehending what was going on.

“Is this some cruel dream?” spoke Ragnar at last, choking out the words as he stared disbelieving at Athelstan’s face.

“No,” Athelstan shook his head firmly. “No, you are not dreaming Ragnar. This is real. _I_ am real.”

Ragnar reached out a shaky hand to touch the side of Athelstan’s face and gasped in surprise when he felt the smooth skin there. Flesh, or something resembling flesh, was beneath his fingertips. He let out a startled sob and tears began to run down his face, bloody and thick.

“It’s you,” he choked. “It’s really you.”

Athelstan let out his own sob, feeling overcome with emotion, “It’s me, Ragnar. It's your Athelstan.” All his doubts about Ragnar hating him vanished as he saw the look of pure wonder and happiness spread across his face.

Behind them, Lagertha let out a startled yell of emotion, finally noticing her daughter staring at her with wide eyes.

“Gyda!” She cried, flinging herself at her. “My daughter! My beautiful, beautiful daughter!” She brought Gyda into her arms and the both of them began to sob, clinging to one another for dear life.

“How is this possible?” Ragnar asked, looking from Athelstan to Gyda and his ex-wife and back again.

“It's a long story,” Athelstan smiled ruefully. “And I will tell it fully, but first, you two need to eat.”

“Eat?” Ragnar was confused again, but happy just to be in Athelstan’s presence.

“Yes,” Athelstan walked over to his refrigerator, where no food sat except that of blood bags. He pulled out four, noticing Ragnar watching his every move with a curious expression on his face.

“Here,” said Athelstan, handing two to Gyda and Lagertha and then two to Ragnar. “Drink.”

Ragnar sniffed it subconsciously. He made a face, “But this is…”

“Human blood, yes. I promise to you I will explain everything but please, drink. If you don't, you will die again,” Athelstan explained, imploring Ragnar with his wide blue eyes to trust him.

Ragnar did.

He took one of the blood bags and, under the instruction of Athelstan, sucked on the tube coming out of the top. The minute the blood entered his mouth, he was overcome. His eyes changed color and he began to suck on it vigorously, until every last drop of blood was gone from the blood bag. He threw it to the ground and immediately began sucking on the other one, until that too was empty.

Athelstan looked over to Lagertha and Gyda and saw Lagertha sucking the blood out the bag earnestly, her eyes never straying from her daughter, who rubbed soothing circles on her back.

Ragnar finished the blood bags, wiping his mouth for the remaining blood. He looked to the ground and saw the dead body and the blood on the floor.

“You did this?” He asked Athelstan.

“Yes,” said Athelstan. “It was the only way to bring you back.”

“Bring me back _where_ exactly?”

“London, England, 2017.”

Ragnar’s impossibly blue eyes widened once more.

“Th—that's not possible,” he stuttered.

“And bringing you back from the dead was?” Athelstan asked wryly.

Ragnar inclined his head, conceding his point.

“I don't care if any of this is possible,” said Lagertha. “I get to hold my daughter once more and she is so beautiful.”

Gyda smiled, more tears shining in her eyes.

Athelstan reached up to touch Ragnar’s face, Ragnar not shying away from the contact, and wiped away the tracks of blood.

“I take it you are happy to see me?” teased Athelstan.

“Happy?” echoed Ragnar. “I am... _overjoyed_ at seeing you _and_ my beloved daughter.” He walked over to Gyda and ran a reverent hand through her curls. “I thought I would would never have the pleasure of doing this again.”

Gyda laughed, leaning into her Father’s touch, “You can stroke my hair whenever you want, Father, but first, I believe you and Athelstan need to talk.”

Ragnar looked at Athelstan, who burned under his intense gaze.

“Yes, we should,” he gulped. “Gyda, I trust you can explain things to your Mother?”

Gyda nodded her head, hugging her Mother to her, “I have so much to tell you, Mother!”

Athelstan motioned for Ragnar to follow him and he did, gazing around the pristine townhouse in wonder as they climbed the steps and went into Athelstan’s bedroom.

“You... _live_ here?” Ragnar asked, staring at the white walls and the incredible paintings with a look of awe on his face.

“Yes,” said Athelstan, sitting down onto his plush bed. He patted the empty space beside him and Ragnar went willingly.

He was amazed by the incredible softness of the mattress and the fact that he sunk down a little upon seating.

“This is a bed?” He asked in wonder.

“Yes,” smiled Athelstan. “A lot has changed in the past twelve hundred years.”

Ragnar’s eyes widened once more at the words ‘twelve hundred’. That number was almost out of his imaginings.

“How did you—” Ragnar struggled with his question. “How did you _survive_?”

“I didn't,” Athelstan smiled ruefully. “I _was_ dead Ragnar. And I'm guessing it was you who buried me?”

Ragnar nodded his head jerkily. He did not like to think about it, especially now that Athelstan was here with him, very much alive...or whatever it was they were.

“ _Someone…_ ” Athelstan struggled to keep the hate out of his voice, “brought me back. The same way I brought you back.”

“Who?” questioned Ragnar.

“You've met him,” said Athelstan. “Think back on the time we left Wess— _England_ for the second time, when I decided to come home with you. Do you remember anyone different on the boat back?”

Ragnar thought long and hard. At first he did not remember anything suspicious, then it was like a veil was lifted off his mind. He saw a man in his mind’s eye, a strange man, with strange colorings and an even stranger accent.

“Yes,” said Ragnar. “Yes, I remember him now! He used to ask me so many questions about you. Why is it I'm only just remembering?”

“Because he compelled you— _erased_ your mind, I mean.”

“He _erased_ my mind?!” Ragnar was incredulous. Nothing about this made sense.

“Yes, all _strigi_ are born with that power,” said Athelstan. “ _You_ , Ragnar, have that power, as does Lagertha.”

“ _Strigi_?” Ragnar fumbled with the word.

“I believe the modern term is _vampire_ , but yes, you are a _strigi_.”

“And what does this mean?”

“It _means_ that never again will you feel death,” said Athelstan. “You will never get sick, you will never be mortally wounded, you will _never_ die. You will live forever.”

Ragnar stared at him in amazement, “Is that the reason why you are still alive _twelve hundred years_ later?”

“Yes.”

“And why it looks as if you haven't aged a day,” Ragnar lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. Athelstan leaned into the touch. “Is that why we have to drink human blood.”

“Yes, unfortunately it’s a necessity.”

“Why did this man do this to you?” Ragnar finally asked after a moment of silence.

“ _He said_ it was because he wanted to, because he—he _wanted_ me,” Athelstan looked down at his clasped hands in his lap.

Ragnar remembered, “Yes, I remember him _taunting_ me, saying you would be his for eternity. I remember getting _so angry_ but he'd subdue me somehow and he'd...erase my mind.”

“Ragnar I am _so_ sorry he did that to you,” Athelstan placed a tentative hand over his. Their hands sizzled with electricity at the touch. Athelstan took his hand away as if he'd been burned, Ragnar staring at his own hands in awe.

“What did he do to you?” Ragnar had to ask.

Athelstan hesitated, “He...made me come with him, after he raised me. Said if I didn't, he'd kill all of you and I didn't doubt for a second that he wasn't a man of his word.”

“And then?” Ragnar probed, fearing the worst.

“He made me…” Athelstan struggled to find the words. “He made me _sleep_ with him, for many times over the centuries.”

“I’ll kill him,” Ragnar snarled.

Athelstan placed a placating hand on his shoulder, “As much as I would love to see that, you can't.”

“Why not?” asked Ragnar, indignant. “Are you still with him now?”

“What? No!” Athelstan didn't think about the actions which led him to this moment. “No, I'm not with him. Gyda and I left him, in the 18th century.”

Ragnar tilted his head, confused.

“The 1700s,” Athelstan clarified. “I uncovered a hideous betrayal on his part and decided I had had enough. By that time, all of you were long dead, so his hold over me was no more.”

“Why can I not kill him?” Ragnar asked again.

“Because,” Athelstan sighed. “The older you are as a _vampire_ , the stronger you are. _Eli_ is over two thousand years old, he's _incredibly_ strong.”

Ragnar looked put out, then he lit up, as if an idea popped into his head, “So does that mean, that you are incredibly strong?”

“Oh, yes. Very much so.”

“I would like to see it,” Ragnar smiled.

“Someday,” Athelstan promised. “Soon.”

“So, how did Gyda…” Ragnar trailed off.

“It was a mistake,” said Athelstan. At Ragnar’s face, he amended, “A _happy_ accident. It was about a year after I had been raised when Eli received word that you had been killed in Paris. I was _desolate_ to say the least and I…”

Ragnar looked at him, “You what, Athelstan?”

“I...wanted you back, so badly my very soul ached,” It felt good to finally confess this Ragnar, after over a thousand years of silence.

“You were...trying to bring _me_ back?” Ragnar sounded astonished.

“Yes, but _Eli_ gave me the wrong words,” Athelstan snarled.

“Why?”

“Because he was jealous,” Athelstan said. “Because I—I _love_ you, Ragnar.” There, it was out in the open now, no going back.

Ragnar stared at him, awestruck. It seemed as though their roles were reversed, mirroring what had happened the first time.

“You... _love_ me?” Ragnar spoke the words slowly, barely believing them as they passed his own lips. He had always hoped, nay, _prayed_ for this, but to actually hear the words come out of Athelstan’s mouth? Indescribable.

“Yes,” said Athelstan, more sure of anything in his whole life. “With all my heart, with all my soul, with all my being.” He echoed the words he spoke many lifetimes ago, though they had a very different meaning now.

Ragnar’s eyes lit up, recognizing the words, and he reached out his hand once more and touched Athelstan’s face, marveling at the smooth, marble-like texture. It was silent for a moment, then Ragnar spoke, his words measured carefully.

“I have loved you, almost from the first moment I saw you, Athelstan. You were so strange, so different, though I suppose you thought the same about me,” they both chuckled a little at this, feeling warmth spread through their bodies at each other's confession. “You surprised me, again and again, going above and beyond any expectation. I thought you brave, because you dared to question, and I still do. I cannot imagine the horrors you have suffered, but trust me in this: you will never have to go through any that alone. Not anymore. I am here, with you, through, what did you call it? A _miracle_. And I am never going to leave your side, never again. I love you, Athelstan.”

Athelstan felt his heart soar into the tops of the heavens, feeling light. He leaned into Ragnar’s hand upon his face and placed a kiss on his palm. Ragnar watched him through hooded eyes, the ocean blue darkening with desire.

“Oh, Ragnar!” Athelstan cried, flinging his arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. “It's been so long!”

Ragnar buried his head into Athelstan’s hair, breathing in his scent deep. He fought to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill again. He wrapped his arms tight around Athelstan's waist, vowing to himself to never let this precious man go.

It was real.

_Athelstan_ was real.

Slowly, Athelstan pulled away slightly, still holding his arms around his shoulders and he looked apprehensive as he stared into Ragnar’s eyes.

“May I…” Athelstan struggled to get the words out. “ _Kiss_ you?”

Ragnar lit up, nodding fiercely, not trusting his voice to crack with emotion. Athelstan cupped Ragnar’s cheek, it was so smooth and unblemished, all the scars he had accumulated over the years as a Viking were gone. Slowly, hesitantly, he brought his face close to Ragnar’s, until their lips were only a breath apart. Athelstan closed his eyes and put his lips on Ragnar for the very first time.

It was a soft kiss, just their lips touching each other’s hesitantly. Ragnar curled a hand into Athelstan’s hair, keeping him close and melded their lips together in a hotter kiss, softly probing his mouth open and exploring with his tongue. Their tongues tangled sweetly, both of them lost to the moment. Athelstan sighed happily, feeling complete for the first time in over a millennium.

They slowly pulled back, both of their eyelids heavy with desire.

“That was…” Ragnar was breathless.

“Amazing?” Athelstan offered, laughing lightly.

“Yes,” Ragnar smiled. “ _Amazing_.”

Athelstan pulled him back in for another kiss, Ragnar happily putting his lips back on him. They felt whole, like nothing in the world could ever separate them again. Athelstan licked into Ragnar’s mouth, exploring, Ragnar doing the same. He ran his tongue over his teeth, teasing him, and he felt Ragnar chuckle beneath him.

“You are a good kisser,” Ragnar commented as they pulled back once more.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Athelstan teased.

“Oh, no,” smirked Ragnar. “You are _perfect_.”

Athelstan frowned, “I am far from perfect…”

“You are perfect to _me_ ,” Ragnar amended, smiling slightly and taking his hand.

A glint formed in Athelstan’s eye and he laid backwards onto the bed, pulling Ragnar on top of him.

“ _You_ are perfect to _me_ ,” said Athelstan, before kissing him soundly again.

They kissed and they kissed, feeling bold as they ran their hands over each other’s bodies, exploring every muscle, every feature. Athelstan ran his hands over the rough fabric of Ragnar’s tunic, feeling the crusted blood stains and felt a stab of sadness in gut. He knew how Ragnar suffered and this tunic only served as a reminder of that. In a quick move, Athelstan ripped the offending fabric off of him, exposing his muscled chest.

Ragnar laughed a little, “Those are my only clothes!”

“I'll buy you some new ones tomorrow,” promised Athelstan, melding their lips together once more. He trailed hot fire down Ragnar’s abs, going down to his trousers. He felt his hardness against his thigh and smirked.

“If I am to be naked and bare my ugly, old body to you, then you must do the same,” said Ragnar, pulling away.

“Ugly?” echoed Athelstan, incredulous. “Old? Ragnar, you should really look into a mirror.”

“What's a mirror?”

“A looking glass. An object that allows you to see your reflection.”

“Maybe later,” growled Ragnar. “First, I must have you.”

“I am yours, my king,” Athelstan replied, feeling shy for the first time in centuries. Ragnar was really bringing out the old him, and he loved every second of it.

“I am not a king,” Ragnar shook his head sadly. “Nor do I want to be one, not anymore.”

“Okay. Then, you are just Ragnar, my love, my life,” Athelstan kissed him hard on the lips, raking a hand over his bald head.

Ragnar broke away and began trailing wet hot kisses down Athelstan’s neck, feeling like a brand across Athelstan’s skin. He stopped and looked confusedly at his clothing.

“How do I take these damn things off?” Ragnar seemed frustrated at Athelstan’s white button-up shirt.

Athelstan laughed, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it across the room, “Here, let me.” He undid his tie with expert fingers, and threw it to join his jacket on the floor. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, preening under Ragnar’s unwavering appreciative gaze.

He revealed his finely muscled chest, Ragnar running a hand down it reverently. Athelstan burned under his touch, arching up into his hand. Ragnar leaned down and pressed kisses across his collarbone, reminding Athelstan of that _magick_ induced dream he had long ago.

Ragnar trailed further down, down his chest, licking kisses and little bites as he went. He seemed a little disappointed that none of his bites took, healing instantly, but he didn't say a word, reaching the edge of Athelstan’s dress pants.

“Is this a belt?” Ragnar tugged on Athelstan’s black leather belt that held up his dress pants.

“Yes,” laughed Athelstan, showing him how to unbuckle the metal.

Ragnar watched him, his head tilted, ever the curious man.

“Strange,” he said. Then he smiled, “I like it.”

Athelstan laughed once more and removed his belt before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He slowly removed them, revealing his dark blue boxer briefs underneath. His cock was straining against the fabric and a wet patch was forming. Ragnar couldn't look away.

“This,” he said, trailing a light hand over the bulge, causing Athelstan to hiss in pleasure, “is what passes for underclothes now?”

Athelstan nodded his head, no words forming on his lips. Ragnar smiled mischievously and put his hands on his own trousers, ripping them off in one smooth motion, revealing nothing but his hard cock underneath.

“I am afraid I am unused to that custom,” Ragnar teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Athelstan.

Athelstan barked out a laugh before whipping off his boxer briefs and exposing his own hard cock, leaking and red at the tip. Ragnar licked his lips hungrily, eyeing it like a wolf eyes its prey.

He wrapped a hand around the base of Athelstan cock, causing him to let out a startled moan. Ragnar gave him his signature grin before slowly jacking his hand up and down, creating some friction.

Athelstan lifted his hips, desperate for more contact.

“ _Ah, ah_ ,” Athelstan moaned, as Ragnar jacked him off.

“Are you enjoying that?” Ragnar grinned.

“ _Ah_ , yes…” Athelstan groaned, tilting his head back.

“Good. I so love to bring you happiness.”

Athelstan laughed, then choked off as Ragnar teased his leaking head. Ragnar hesitated for a moment, before leaning down and kissing the tip. Athelstan groaned as Ragnar took the head into his mouth, wet hot heat enveloping his cock.

Ragnar grinned and hummed, making him vibrate with pleasure. He took him further down, licking and sucking him.

Athelstan placed a hand on Ragnar’s head, easing him down further until his cock hit the back of his throat. Ragnar didn't seem to mind, bobbing his head up and down.

Athelstan moaned as Ragnar pulled back, teasing the slit with his tongue.

“Oh, God,” Athelstan groaned.

“I don't know about that,” smirked Ragnar.

“Oh, shut up!” laughed Athelstan. He was so happy that the camaraderie between them hadn't been lost; he'd missed it.

Ragnar chuckled before wrapping his lips back around his cock, sucking him down completely. Athelstan raised his hips, thrusting into Ragnar’s throat. Ragnar hummed, loving Athelstan’s enthusiasm.

He sucked him vigorously, until Athelstan was sure he was about fall over the edge. He leaned up and gently raised Ragnar off his cock.

At Ragnar’s confused look, Athelstan explained, “I want to come with you inside me.”

This only made Ragnar even more confused, “Inside you? You mean…?”

“Yes,” Athelstan took one of Ragnar’s hands and snuck it up under his cock, to his entrance.

“Will it hurt?” Ragnar asked, amazed at the possibility.

“A little,” laughed Athelstan. “But not much, with the help of this…” Athelstan reached over to his mahogany wood side table, and opened a drawer, bringing out a large bottle of lube.

“What is that?” Ragnar eyed the white bottle curiously. He had never seen plastic before.

“Something to ease the way,” said Athelstan. “Pour a little, or a lot, on your fingers and open me up.”

Ragnar looked at him and the bottle. His eyes lit up as he said mischievously, “ _Show me_.”

Athelstan raised his brows, smirking, “Alright, you dirty boy.”

Ragnar huffed out a laugh and sat back on his haunches, watching him carefully. Athelstan took a large, unneeded breath and squirted a generous amount of lube onto his fingers before laying back on the bed and propping his legs up, knees bent. He trailed a slick finger down to his entrance, under Ragnar’s intense watchful gaze. He teased it around his hole, before slowly pushing it in.

He pushed it in and out, probing around for his prostate. He gasped out, finding it.

Ragnar leaned forward, “What was _that_?” His eyes were afire with curiosity.

“Something that will make this good for me, as it will be good for you. It's deep inside me, you must find it when you enter me.”

“How?”

“Just do what you normally do, I trust that you’ll find it,” Athelstan smiled reassuringly at him and Ragnar smiled back.

“ _More_ ,” whispered Ragnar, urging him to add another a finger.

Athelstan added a second finger, stretching himself open. Ragnar watched him as he prepared himself with wonder, hoping that he understood enough to give Athelstan the pleasure he deserved when the time came.

Athelstan made to add a third finger, but Ragnar reached out a hand and stopped him, saying, “Let me.”

Athelstan removed his fingers and squirted the lube onto Ragnar’s fingers. Ragnar marveled at the texture, feeling the slick spread down his fingers. He gently placed his clean hand on Athelstan’s chest, easing him back down on to the bed.

He snuck his fingers to Athelstan’s stretched hole and slipped one in easily. He watched in wonder as he probed his finger, finding the sweet spot in Athelstan quickly.

“See?” gasped Athelstan, seeing stars. “I told you you could do it.”

Ragnar grinned, “I've always been a fast learner.”

Athelstan choked out a laugh, Ragnar hitting that spot inside him again. Ragnar added another finger easily enough, it slipping without resistance next to the first one. He fucked him slowly on his two fingers, watching as Athelstan fell apart, his cock weeping.

“One more finger,” Athelstan cried. “Add one more finger.”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Ragnar said.

“It won't hurt, I promise,” Athelstan panted. “Just do it.”

Ragnar nodded, he'd probably always do what Athelstan asked of him. He added the last finger, stretching him open.

Athelstan moaned, he was hitting his prostate with each thrust of his fingers.

“Never in my wildest dreams did I envision these sounds you make,” Ragnar sighed, his pupils so black and large that Athelstan could barely see Ragnar’s beautiful blue eyes.

Athelstan laughed, “Well, I know yours, from all the times I had to listen to you and Lagertha.”

Ragnar chuckled, “I know you liked it. Don't deny it.”

“I did,” Athelstan confessed. “I felt so wretched about it, wanting to be the one who drew those noises from you.”

“Well, now you will,” Ragnar promised, and he withdrew his fingers. “I imagine I need to put this slick on my cock.”

“Yes,” said Athelstan, feeling himself become giddy with anticipation of what was to come.

Ragnar took up the bottle and squirted some more in his hand, before placing it on his cock, slicking himself up, hissing at the contact.

Athelstan spread his legs and Ragnar kneeled in front of him, bracing his arms around Athelstan’s head.

“You sure?” Ragnar had to ask, at least one more time.

Athelstan’s heart clenched at the sentiment. It seemed that Ragnar was affording him the choice that Eli never gave him. He loved him for that more than life itself.

“I'm sure, Ragnar,” said Athelstan, placing his hands on the side of Ragnar’s face and pulling him in for a chaste kiss. “I will always say yes to you, Ragnar. I _love_ you.”

Ragnar’s face crumpled, tears forming in his eyes, “I love you too.” Then, caressing his face, he gently pressed his cock inside.

Athelstan gasped at the intrusion, but not out of pain, but out of pleasure and happiness for finally being filled by the one he loved most in the world.

His beloved Ragnar.

Ragnar ground his teeth, fighting against his baser instincts to just grab Athelstan and rut. No, he wanted this to be good— _great_ —for him. For the both of them. They deserved it, after everything they had been through.

He bottomed out, his balls slapping against Athelstan’s ass. He stilled once he was fully inside, taking a moment to compose himself. Athelstan hiked one of his legs up over Ragnar’s shoulder.

Ragnar raised a brow, “Flexible?”

“You learn a lot of things,” Athelstan gasped, “over a thousand years.”

Ragnar grinned and slowly pulled back out, before pushing back in, quickly this time, forcing the unneeded air out of Athelstan’s lungs. He did it again, faster and faster still, until he was pounding out a good rhythm.

“ _Ah, ah, ah_ ,” Athelstan gasped. He was hitting his prostate with each thrust. Ragnar was right, he _was_ a quick learner.

Ragnar grunted, pistoning his hips, both of them rocking together. Athelstan kept his hands on the sides of Ragnar’s face, bringing them close. They melded their mouths together, kissing passionately.

Ragnar picked up the pace, making love to him with great force. Athelstan loved every moment of it. The bed rocked with incredible force as they made love, both of them moving together like a well-oiled machine. Ragnar was kissing Athelstan’s face, calling him all manner of sweet things. Athelstan sighed and clutched at Ragnar’s shoulders, feeling whole and complete.

He began to feel the familiar coil of heat begin to unfurl in his belly. He was close.

“I'm close,” Athelstan cried. “Are you?”

“Yes, my love,” Ragnar ground out, feeling his own self reach the edge.

“Then let’s let go, _together_ ,” Athelstan gasped out.

Ragnar placed his hands on the side of Athelstan’s face, bringing their foreheads together as they crossed the precipice as one.

Athelstan cried out as he came, shooting white spurts across his chest. Ragnar grunted loudly and did the same, spilling deep inside him.

They panted loudly, their heads pressed together. Ragnar kissed the sides of Athelstan’s face, saying “I love you” over and over again.

“I love you too, Ragnar. Always and forever,” Athelstan promised.

Ragnar smiled and kissed his forehead reverently, before slowly pulling out. They both let out a hiss at loss and Ragnar collapsed beside him on the bed.

“That was...what did you call it again?” Ragnar asked.

“ _Amazing_ ,” Athelstan laughed, feeling drunk on the act they had just performed together, as one.

“Yes, _amazing_. You must teach me your language, Athelstan. You must teach me everything there is to know about this new world,” Ragnar said, pulling Athelstan close to lay his head on his chest.

“I will, I promise,” said Athelstan, kissing his chest.

“We also need to do something about that beard of yours,” he laughed, tugging on the long, grizzled strands.

Ragnar gasped, feigning hurt, “You don't like it? Surely it befits an old man such as me.”

Athelstan raised his head, “You are _not_ an old man. I told you, go look in the mirror.”

“Show me.”

Athelstan stood up off the bed, pulling Ragnar along with him, both of them as naked as the day they were born. He lead him into his bathroom, where a great pristine mirror was laid in the wall, taking up the entire length of it.

Athelstan pulled Ragnar in front of it and said, “ _Look_.”

Ragnar turned his gaze hesitantly onto the large mirror and what he saw there shocked him to his very core. He wasn't an old man anymore. The wrinkles on his face were gone, as were the scars that King Aella had inflicted upon him before casting him down to his death. In fact, all of his scars were gone, the ones acquired from battle and the calluses from all the hard work he'd endured. His tattoos were gone too, his head was bare. He gazed in amazement at his new form, barely recognizing himself, yet he knew it was still him, for his Athelstan stood beside him, as clear and as bright as ever.

“See? I told you,” Athelstan whispered against the shell of his ear. “You are a new man.”

_A new man_.

Ragnar liked the sound of that.

He turned around and grabbed Athelstan’s face, pulling him into a bruising kiss, putting everything he felt for him into the touch of their lips. He loved him more than life itself, and Ragnar was going to be with him  _forever_.

As they broke apart, Ragnar whispered, “Always and forever, you said?” He felt the promise of it on his lips, sweet as sunrise in the morning beyond the trees of the mountaintops near Kattegat. 

“Always and forever.”

THE END

for now ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! An epilogue will be coming shortly...
> 
> A sequel is planned and will be coming soon, with lots of Ragnar/Athelstan goodness! 
> 
> And yes, that was a Vampire Diaries/Originals reference...it's a vampire story, I couldn't help it!
> 
> Thank you to all who have been reading this from the very beginning, it's been a hell of a ride!


	23. EPILOGUE

The bar was dark and musty, smoke filling the air from various smoke machines. Red drapes hung from the ceiling, giving the impression that the bar was lush and full of people of good standing.

 

It wasn't.

 

Sitting at the bar, surrounded by fawning men, was a seductive woman, sipping on a glass of blood red wine. Her lips were if the same color, pursed into a lovely smirk. She wore a red velvet dress, which hugged her curves in the nicest way possible. She wore black heels on her feet, the heels sharpened to a deadly point. Her bright red hair cascaded down her back in neat curls. The men around her were captivated.

 

She paid them no mind.

 

At that moment, the door to the dark bar opened and light poured in, if only for a second. The woman at the bar didn't turn her head, but she smirked widely, knowing exactly who it was that just entered.

 

The moment the door opened, all eyes in the bar, save for the woman’s, immediately went to the man who walked in and all mouths went silent. The man exuded a presence of wealth and status, but also one of great danger.

 

His feet click clacked against the tile floor of the bar, taking measured steps in his black Armani shoes to the woman. The men surrounding the woman scattered the moment the man approached, sensing his dangerous energy.

 

The man sat down smoothly on the bar stool next to the woman, smoothing down his expensive black suit.

 

“A shot of vodka, please barkeep,” his voice was as smooth as honey and incredibly sly.

 

The bartender shuffled around nervously and quickly poured him a shot of vodka, splashing it a little on the account of his shaky hands. The man didn't seem to notice or care. He took the shot of vodka and downed it in one smooth gulp. He didn't even flinch as the vodka burned his throat.

 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” said the woman beside him, raising her glass of wine to her lips. She took a sip, then said, “You made me wait.”

 

“Oh, forgive me,” spoke the man, smoothing down his golden blonde hair into the knot at the base of his head. “I had business to conduct.”

 

“You always have business,” smirked the woman.

 

“Well, I wouldn't be me if I didn't,” the man teased, gesturing for another shot of vodka.

 

“So,” said the woman. “Why is it you wanted to meet here, in this _vile_ place with these _disgusting_ men.” She sneered.

 

“I thought you'd like it,” said the man thoughtfully. “All these men, ripe for the picking.”

 

“Nevermind that, _why_ are we here?”

 

The man sighed, saying, “It appears that our _children_ are making quite the mess of things.”

 

“Oh?” The woman raised her dark red eyebrows, her sparkling green eyes alight with curiosity. “Which one? Not our son, surely.”

 

“Oh no, He’s been the good little son as of late. No, it's _Athelstan_ ,” the man hissed, spitting out the word.

 

“Ooh,” giggled the woman. “He _has_ been causing trouble in the past century and a half, but what, pray tell, did he do this time?”

 

“He performed the spell, you know the spell that _I_ created for our son to use, when necessary,” said the man. “Well, as you well know, our...grandson, took the scroll and used it for his own gain—”

 

“ _Own gain_ ?” echoed the woman, teasing. “I recall it was _you_ that led him to Athelstan.”

 

“Yes, to get Athelstan out of my way,” waved the man dismissively. “Imagine my surprise when his prophecy changed, promising death and destruction.”

 

“Sounds interesting.”

 

“I thought so too, until yesterday,” said the man, downing another shot of vodka.

 

“What happened yesterday?”

 

“Athelstan procured the spell from Eli, and used it to finally bring back the one he loves most…” the man trailed off.

 

“He brought back _Ragnar Lothbrok_?” the woman was incredulous.

 

“Ah, see _that_ in itself would be fine, celebratory even, but no, he brought back another.”

 

“ _Another?_ But that's not possible, not with that spell,” said the woman, setting her wine down and looking at him fully, her beautiful face marked with perplexity.

 

“Yes, it is supposed to impossible but apparently, he found a loophole, for he brought back _Lagertha_ as well.”

 

“So, Ragnar Lothbrok and his formidable shield maiden ex-wife are back, what's the problem exactly?”

 

“The _problem_ is, that he only intended to bring back one, thus only one sacrifice. The spell calls for a balance of power: bring back one, take another. That's how it works. If you don't do that, well…the universe itself will begin falling apart. The apocalypse will be upon us,” the man seemed nervous at the thought.

 

The woman’s eyes widened, “So what do we do?”

 

“I want _you_ to go to Athelstan, warn him of my coming to meet him. I expect you will tell him how to greet me?”

 

The woman smirked, “Of course, my King.” She bowed her head in mock respect.

 

The man smirked, “We will get Athelstan to fix the spell, either willing or by force. I _cannot_ have the apocalypse start, I _cannot_!” He seemed utterly upset by this notion.

 

“Calm yourself, my King. We will fix it,” the woman soothed a hand down his arm. “But first, when was the last time we had a little fun?”

 

The man smiled devilishly and flashed his black sclera, startling the bartender. He and the woman rounded on the people in the bar, showing their true forms.

 

No one passing the bar heard the screams of the people inside and only hours later, long after the man and woman were gone, did they find the bodies, murdered in terribly gruesome ways and strewn haphazardly across the bar. The very floor was soaked with their blood.

 

And written on the wall, in the victim's blood, were the words:

 

THE DEVIL SENDS HIS REGARDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sequel is coming soon, I just have to tweak and edit a few things but for now, thank you all for enjoying this story, I've had a blast writing it and am excited for y'all to see more!
> 
> I have unlocked some of my character Pinterest boards for this story, so if you guys wanna check them out they are here: https://www.pinterest.com/addisonmalvezzi/
> 
> (I couldn't get a link to work, but if you copy and paste it in the search bar, it should work!)


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